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TRACTS 


OF    THE 


AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


encral   Series. 


VOL.  X. 


PRINTED  BY  THE 
AMERICAN   TRACT    SOCIETY, 

150   NA  SSAU-STREET,   NEW   YORK 


CONTENTS. 


VOL.  X. 

No.  Paoks. 

351.  The  Infidel  Reclaimed,        .......  8 

352.  The  Sabbath, 4 

353.  Marks  of  Religious  Declension,            .....  4 

354.  The  Mother's  Last  Prayer,  or  George  Vining,           .         .  8 

355.  The  Ringleader, .8 

356.  The  act  of  Faith, 4 

357.  What  is  it  to  Believe  on  Chiist  ? 4 

358.  The  Wonderful  Escape, 4 

359.  The  Child  a  Hundred  Years  Old.      By   Rev.  WiUiani    S. 

Plumer,  D.  D., 12 

360.  Redeeming  the  Time,          .......  8 

361.  Atoning  Blood, 12 

362.  Universalism  Unscriptural  and  Absurd,         ....  8 

363.  Come  to  Jesus,        ........  8 

364.  How  to  Make  the  Most  of  Life, 4 

365.  The  Island  Planter, 8 

366.  The  Beginnings  of  Evil, 8 

367.  Live  for  the  World, 8 

368.  Don't  put  it  Off, 4 

369.  The  Time  not  Come 8 

370.  Memoir  of  Dr.  John  D.  Godman.     By  Thos.  Sewall,  M.  D.,  20 

371.  The  Sinner  his  own  Destroyer,         .....  8 

372.  Joy  in  Sorrow,  or  Comfort  for  the  Bereaved,         ...  4 

373.  Declarations  of  a  Deist.     By  Rev.  Herman  Norton,          .  8 

374.  Short  Method  with  the  Sceptic, 8 

375.  A  few  Thoughts.     By  a  member  of  the  Bar,    ...  28 

376.  The  Infidel's  Creed,  or  the  Credulity  of  Infidelity.     By  Olin- 

thus  Gregory,  LL.  D.,           ......  8 

377.  Fifty  Reasons  for  attending  Public  Worship,         ...  4 


CONTENTS. 


No.  Pages. 

378.  The  False  Hope.     By  Rev.  Richard  Knill,       ...  4 

379.  Some  Memorials  of  Edward  Lee,        .         .         .         .         .12 

380.  The  Spirit  Grieved, 4 

381.  "We  are  all  Here," 4 

382.  Have  me  Excused,           .......  8 

383.  Conversion  of  an  aged  Deist,      ......  8 

384.  The  Day  of  Trial, 4 

385.  Convictions  Stifled,    ........  4 

386.  Sketch  of  Miss  Harriet  Patterson,   .....  4 

387.  All  in  the  Ark.     A  family  Tract, 16 

388.  Conversion  of  Dr.  Capadose,  a  Jewish  Physician,     .         .  24 

389.  Do  you  Forgive  all  ycnr  Enemies?      .....  4 

390.  To  the  N'eglecter  of  Religion, 8 

391.  I  am  no  Hypocrite,     ........  4 

392.  Come  and  welcome  to  Jesus  Christ.     By  John  Bunyan,    .  8 

393.  Justification  by  Faith,          .......  24 

394.  Christian  Liberality  Explained  and  Enforced.     By  Rev.  John 

Harris,     ..........  48 

395.  The  Eventful  Twelve  Hours,  or  the  Destitution  and  Wretch- 

edness of  a  Drunkard,      .         .         .         .         .         .         .16 

396.  Are  you  a  Sabbath-school  Teacher  ?     From  Nevins'  "  Prac- 

tical Thoughts,"       ........  4 

397.  Do  you  Pray  in  your  Family?     From  Nevins'  "Practical 

Thoughts," 4 

398.  The  Lost  Mechanic  Restored,          .....  4 

399.  Dialogue  between  the  Bible  and  a  Sinner,    ....  4 

400.  Do  thyself  no  Harm,       .......  4 

401.  The  Temptations  of  Young  Men,       .         .         .         .         .16 

402.  Counsels  to  a  Young  Man,      .         .         .         .         .         ,  16 

403.  "  If  any  Man  Thirst,  let  him  come  unto  Me  and  Drink,"      .  4 

404.  I  have  not  Time,    ........  4 

405.  "  Cut  it  Down,"          .         .         .         :        .         ...  4 

406.  Private  Devotion,    ........  4 

407.  Self-dedication  to  God, 4 

408.  I  must  Pray  in  Secret,     .......  4 


I¥o.  351. 


THE 


INFIDEL  RECLAIMED. 


Dr.  Thomas  Jewett  was  born  in  Rindge,  N.  H.,  Feb. 
28,  1771,  where,  with  the  exception  of  four  years,  he  re- 
sided till  his  death,  which  occurred  April  24,  1840,  at  the 
age  of  69.  For  many  years  he  was  a  reputable  physician, 
and  also  a  justice  of  the  peace ;  but  he  relinquished  the 
active  services  of  both  stations  some  time  previous  to  his 
death. 

Having  labored  a  few  months  in  the  ministry  at  Rindge, 
I  called  on  Dr.  Jewett,  in  the  spring  of  1822,  to  ask  his 
consent  that  his  eldest  dauo-hter  mitrht  assist  as  a  teacher 
in  the  Sabbath-school.  He  frankly  stated  his  objections 
to  Sabbath- schools  ;  but,  after  a  candid  reconsideration 
of  them,  granted  my  request,  and  all  his  children  of  proper 
age,  were  also  permitted  to  attend.  This  brought  the 
family  more  directly  into  contact  with  Christian  influence, 
and  at  length  this  daughter  and  four  other  children,  became 
hopefully  pious,  and  united  with  the  church.  He  was 
tenderly  attached  to  his  family ;  and  so  far  as  his  children 
exhibited  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  their  influence  upon  their 
father  was  favorable  to  evangelical  religion.  He  once  said 
to  me,  in  the  hearing  of  some  of  them  who  were  anxious 
for  their  salvation,  "Say  what  you  think  proper  to  them; 
for  though  I  do  not  believe  your  doctrine,  if  any  of  my 
family  think  it  will  add  to  their  happiness  to  join  your 
church,  I  am  willing  they  should  do  it." 

He  continued  to  indulge  them  in  the  enjoyment  of  relig- 
ious privileges,  though  still  maintaining  his  infidelity,  and 
rarely  entering  the  sanctuary  himself  except  on  days  of 
public  fasting  or  thanksgiving.  The  temperance  cause  he 
cordially  espoused,  though  he  evidently  perceived,  and  once 
frankly  stated  to  me,  that  its  influence  was  undeniably  fa- 
vorable to  evangelical  reliction. 

In  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1832,  he  was  frequently 

VOL.  X.  1* 


2  THE  INFIDEL  RKCLAIMED. 

present  at  public  worship ;  and  on  the  last  Saturday  in 
March,  1833,  called  on  me,  and  in  the  course  of  conversa- 
tion remarked,  that  he  had  resolved  to  destroy  his  infidel  books  ! 

Early  on  the  following  Monday  he  called  again,  bringing 
a  large  bundle  enclosed  in  a  handkerchief,  and  with  great 
apparent  earnestness  and  solemnity  said,  "  Here  are  my 
infidel  books ;  I  thought  the  minister's  house  the  most 
suitable  place  to  destroy  them.  Are  you  willing  I  should 
burn  them  in  your  fire  ?"  On  my  consenting,  he  called  in 
two  neighbors  to  be  witnesses,  as  he  said,  of  the  transaction  ; 
and  then,  after  concisely  stating  what  had  been  his  religious 
opinions,  took  from  his  bundle  book  after  book,  gave  its 
title  and  character,  and  committed  it  to  the  flames,  till  the 
whole  were  consumed.  The  stillness  of  death  pervaded 
the  room,  and  the  tears  of  some,  if  not  all  the  spectators, 
evinced  the  deep  emotion  which  the  occasion  excited.  While 
the  last  book  was  burning,  the  doctor  broke  the  silence  by 
saying,  "  It  is  a  wonder  that  I  have  not  come  to  some  mis- 
erable end.  Of  six  men  who  once  joined  me  in  reading 
these  books,  and  ridiculing  religion,  four  have  already  ter- 
minated their  lives  by  drunkenness  or  suicide.  It  is  a  won- 
der that  /too  have  not  come  to  some  miserable  end." 

I  proposed  that  prayer  should  be  offered.  The  doctor 
readily  assented,  and  with  evident  emotion  added,  "  I  wish 
3^ou  to  pray  that  all  my  sins  may  be  forgiven."  I  was 
prevented  having  any  conversation  with  him  again  till,  on 
Sabbath  evening,  two  weeks  after,  he  came  to  inquire  what 
he  must  do  to  be  saved  7  He  vras  under  pungent  convictions 
of  sin ;  and  in  the  stillness  of  that  night,  about  two  o'clock, 
this  aged  sinner  sent  up  his  first  cry  for  mercy  to  that 
Saviour  whom  he  had  sixty  years  "  despised  and  rejected." 

I  might  here  dwell  upon  the  scenes  of  the  ensuing 
week  :  the  agonies  he  experienced,  the  temptations  with 
which  he  was  assailed,  the  victory  which,  through  grace, 
he  achieved ;  the  peace  that  flowed  in  upon  his  own  soul, 
and  the  joy  felt  by  the  pious  members  of  his  family,  when, 
after  disclosing  his  feelings  to  his  children,  and  requesting 
them  to  talk  with  him  and  teach  him  as  they  would  a  child, 
on  a  subject  so  new  as  religion  was  to  him,  he  first  raised 
the  voice  of  prayer  at  the  family  altar.  I  could  speak  of 
other  incidents,  on  which  my  own  mind,  while  memory 
lasts,  will  dwell  with  peculiar  interest ;  but  I  forbear. 


THE  INFIDEL  RECLAIMED.  3 

On  the  last  Sabbath  in  August,  1833,  Dr.  Jewett  was 
received  as  a  member  of  the  church,  when,  at  his  request, 
the  following  communication  was  read  from  the  pulpit  in 
the  hearing  of  a  numerous  assembly,  many  of  whom  had 
known  his  "manner  of  life  from  his  youth." 

"  Respected  Brethren  and  Friends — With  my  gen- 
eral course  of  life  most  of  this  people  are  acquainted.  It  is 
sufficient  therefore  to  say,  that,  though  educated  in  the 
belief  that  the  Scriptures  are  the  word  of  God,  yet  in  early 
life,  by  means  of  erroneous  books  and  associates  of  bad 
principles,  I  imbibed  opinions  which  I  now  regard  as  funda- 
mentally corrupt  and  ruinous.  Led  astray  first  by  the  plau- 
sible but  fallacious  arguments  of  Elkanah  Winchester,  I 
adopted  his  sentiments  fully ;  and  from  his  doctrine  of  tem- 
porary future  punishment,  the  transition  to  Universalism,  or 
the  disbelief  of  any  future  punishment,  was  very  natural 
and  easy.  This  latter  scheme,  so  perfectly  agreeable  to 
the  doer  of  evil,  I  readily  adopted,  and  warmly  advocated 
for  several  years. 

"At  thirty  years  of  age,  I  tried  to  become  an  Atheist, 
but  though  I  never  was  left  to  deny  or  disbelieve  the  ex- 
istence of  God,  yet  I  adopted  the  system  of  Deism  ;  utterly 
rejecting  the  Bible,  as  the  work  of  man,  and  an  imposition 
upon  the  world.  My  course  of  conduct  in  relation  to  evan- 
gelical ministers  and  Christians,  was  such  as  might  be  ex- 
pected from  one  who  cherished  such  sentiments.  I  have  it 
in  painful  remembrance  that  I  opposed  them,  and  made 
them  and  the  cause  they  espoused,  the  subject  of  ridicule 
and  contempt. 

"  But  the  names  of  Infidel  and  Universalist,  I  was  aware, 
were  not  popular.  For  a  few  years  past  I  have  assumed 
the  name  of  Unitarian,  for  two  reasons :  one  was,  that  it 
exposed  me  to  less  odium  ;  the  other,  I  found  that  I  could 
be  reckoned  in  that  class  without  any  material  change  in 
my  religious  opinions.  And  here  I  honestly  and  soberly 
declare,  that  these  several  names  were  assumed  at  different 
times  as  a  mere  disguise,  as  convenience  or  interest  might 
require.  And  I  now  regard  these  several  schemes  as  es- 
sentially the  same.  I  have  been  intimate  with  men  in  all 
ranks  of  society  belonging  to  these  religious  persuasions,  and 
1  have  found  their  sentiments  substantially  the  same  rela- 


4  THE  INFIDEL  RECLALMCn. 

tive  to  the  fundamental  points  in  religion — none  of  them,  so 
far  as  I  could  discover,  receiving  the  Bible  as  decisive  au- 
thority in  religious  faith.  This,  I  need  not  say,  is  denying 
its  inspiration. 

"During  a  few  years  past,  my  feelings  towards  evan- 
gelical religion  and  its  advocates  have  been  gradually  be- 
coming more  favorable.  Several  causes  have  operated  to 
produce  this  change.  Among  these,  I  regard  the  temjjerance 
efforts  as  havinof  had  no  inconsiderable  influence.  In  this 
enterprise  I  cordially  enlisted ;  and  I  found  myself  at  once 
connected  with  evangelical  ministers  and  Christians,  while 
those  who  agreed  with  me  in  religious  opinions,  with  few 
exceptions,  did  not  promote,  but  rather  hindered  the  cause 
of  temperance. 

"  In  the  course  of  the  last  winter,  I  was  led,  by  what 
means  I  know  not,  to  the  conviction  that  my  infidel  books, 
of  which  I  had  several,  would  do  mischief  to  my  children, 
or  others,  should  they  ever  come  into  their  hands.  This 
impression  continued,  and  became  deeper  and  deeper,  and 
gave  me  no  little  uneasiness  for  many  months.  I  at  length 
concluded  to  destroy  them,  not  doubting,  that  if  this  were 
done,  my  mind  would  at  once  regain  its  accustomed  calm- 
ness. These  pernicious  books  I  deliberately  burnt  the  first 
day  of  last  April.  But  the  ways  of  God  are  not  as  our 
ways.  As  soon  as  the  last  book  was  consumed,  and  before 
I  rose  from  my  seat,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  so  far  as  I 
can  recollect,  I  felt  a  conviction  that  I  was  personally  a 
sinner,  and  guilty  before  God.  From  this  moment,  though 
I  knew  not  what  it  meant,  I  had  no  peace  day  nor  night  for 
two  or  three  weeks.  M}^  agony  of  mind  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  describe.  My  feelings  were  to  me  entirely  new  ;  and 
the  doctrine  of  conviction  of  sin  and  of  conversion  I  had 
always  ridiculed.  I  tried  in  vain  to  throw  off  my  impres- 
sions. For  aught  I  know,  my  health  was  good,  ray  mind 
sound — but  I  had  such  a  view  of  my  sins,  and  such,  partic- 
ularly, was  the  opposition  of  my  hard  and  rebellious  heart 
against  God,  that  for  several  days  I  was  unable  to  attend 
to  any  business,  or  enjoy  food  or  sleep.  After  days  and 
nights  of  struggling,  in  my  extremity  1  called,  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life,  upon  Jesus  Christ  for  help.  My  hardened 
heart  began. to  yield,  and  I  expeiienced  some  quietness  of 
mind.     1  immediately  felt  that  I  ought  to  set  up  the  wor- 


THE  INFIDEL  RECLAIMED.  5 

ship  of  God  in  my  family.  But  the  duty  was  new  to  me, 
and  very  formidable  obstacles  rose  up  to  view.  After  a 
violent  conflict,  I  have  reason  to  bless  God  he  enabled  me 
to  overcome  them,  and  to  commence,  and  to  maintain  to 
this  time,  morning  and  evening  worship  in  my  family.  From 
this  hour  particularly,  I  have  enjoyed  a  peace  of  mind  be- 
fore unknown  to  me,  and  have  obtained  increasing  light  and 
strength  in  spiritual  things. 

"The  Bible  which  I  once  rejected,  I  am  fully  convinced, 
and  firmly  believe,  to  be  a  revelation  from  God.  My  views 
of  the  Christian  Sabbath,  which  I  have  greatly  profaned, 
are  entirely  altered.  I  now  regard  it  as  a  divine  institution, 
to  be  kept  holy;  and  I  look  forward  to  its  return,  from 
week  to  week,  with  high  anticipations  of  happiness  in  the 
enjoyment  of  the  precious  privileges  it  affords  in  the  private 
and  public  worship  of  God.  I  take  great  comfort  in  prayer, 
in  reading  the  Bible,  in  hearing  the  Gospel,  and  in  inter- 
course \Adth  pious  people.  The  way  of  salvation  by  the 
grace  of  God,  through  the  atonement  of  Christ,  appears 
right,  safe,  and  glorious,  and  I  rejoice  in  committing  myself 
to  the  hands  of  Christ,  whom  I  desire  to  receive  as  ni}^  all- 
sufiicient  Redeemer  and  portion,  I  daily  feel  that  I  am  a 
sinner,  and  my  past  life  appears  to  me  inexpressibly  vile ; 
and  I  am  filled  with  wonder  that  God  has  so  lonq-  suffered 
me  to  live. 

*'  It  is  with  a  desire,  if  I  am  not  deceived,  to  honor  the 
name  and  promote  the  cause  of  Him  who  died  for  me,  the 
chief  of  sinners,  and  from  a  sense  of  duty  to  the  Saviour 
and  his  church,  that  I  offer  myself  for  admission  among  his 
visible  followers.  I  do  this  with  fear  and  trembling,  lest  I 
shall  be  left  to  dishonor  religion ;  but  I  ask  for  a  special 
interest  in  the  prayers  and  watchful  admonitions  of  the 
church,  that  I  may  be  enabled,  by  divine  grace,  to  do  some- 
thing for  the  advancement  of  the  Redeemer's  kingdom  in 
the  world. 

"  I  reflect  with  shuddering  of  soul  upon  the  awful  gulf 
to  which  my  former  opinions  were  leading  me — a  course 
which  I  was  induced  to  enter  upon  through  the  influence 
of  erroneous  writings  and  corrupt  companions.  Let  youth 
beware  of  these  sources  of  danger.  I  believe  their  only 
ground  of  safety  to  be  a  life  of  prayer  and  of  obedience  to 
the  will  of  God. 


Q  THE  INFIDEL  RECLAIMED. 

*'  Different  opinions,  probably,  will  be  formed  by  dif- 
ferent persons,  of  the  communication  I  have  here  made. 
But  I  have  only  to  say,  that  I  have  done  it  in  the  sincerity 
of  my  heart,  and  must  leave  the  result  with  God,  earnestly 
desirino-  that  this  expression  of  my  views  may  be  blessed 
to  the  o-ood  of  my  fellow-men. 

"THOMAS  JEWETT." 

By  the  grace  of  God,  the  doctor's  life  was  such  as  to 
fulfil  the  hopes  of  the  friends,  and  disappoint  the  predic- 
tions of  the  enemies  of  truth.  He  uniformly  manifested  a 
child-like  svm2:)Ucity  and  teachableness  of  character.  This 
was  exhibited  at  the  time  of  his  conversion,  and  was  mam- 
tained  to  the  close  of  his  life. 

He  cherished  a  warm  attachment  to  the  house  and  peo- 
ple of  God  ;  prayed  for  the  peace  of  Zion ;  rejoiced  in  her 
prosperity,  and  mourned  over  her  afflictions. 

Watchful  over  his  own  heart,  and  circumspect  in  all  his 
words  and  actions,  he  made  growth  in  grace  and  usefulness 
in  the  cause  of  his  Redeemer  the  great  object  of  his  life. 
Family  worship  he  maintained  morning  and  evening ;  he 
was  regular  and  punctual,  not  only  in  the  house  of  God, 
but  at  religious  services  during  the  week ;  and  aware  of 
the  tendency  of  miscellaneous  conversation  on  the  Sabbath 
to  efface  good  impressions,  he  usually  walked  in  silence  and 
thoughtfulness  to  and  from  the  sanctuary. 

He  took  great  delight  in  hearing  the  Gospel,  and  though 
he  could  be  pleased  with  taste,  and  learning,  and  eloquence, 
he  rather  desii-ed  "  the  sincere  milk  of  the  word,  that  he 
might  grow  thereby."  He  also  daily  studied  the  Bible, 
and  prayerfully  meditated  on  its  blessed  truths  ;  and  by 
these  and  other  means  made  very  rapid  advances  in  the 
Christian  life.  This  was  manifested  in  the  tender  compas- 
sion he  felt  for  impenitent  sinners,  especially  those  who  had 
imbibed  the  errors  he  lamented  in  himself;  and  he  rarely 
expressed  his  religious  feelings  without  uttering,  in  some 
form,  his  concern  for  their  salvation.  He  "fought  a  good 
fight,"  he  "kept  the  faith,"  and  ''finished  his  course"  with 

joy- 

About  three  months  before  his  death,  he  became  se- 
riously ill,  and  without  delay  began  to  "  set  his  house  in 
order,"  making  all  needful  arrangements  as  to  his  worldly 


THE  INFIDEL  RECLAIMED.  7 

concerns,  even  including  his  funeral,  with  great  calmness, 
and  yet  with  becoming  solemnity. 

In  one  of  my  first  interviews  with  him  after  he  became 
ill,  he  said  substantially,  "  I  have  had  great  enjoyment  under 
the  means  of  grace,  and  now  I  have  great  peace.  I  am  as 
happy  as  I  can  be.  My  confidence  is  all  in  the  merits  of 
Jesus  Christ,  who  has  purchased  my  redemption  Avith  his 
own  precious  blood.  The  way  of  salvation  appears  wonder- 
ful, and  I  have  great  peace  in  meditating  upon  it.  Alluding 
to  the  expression  of  a  dying  infidel,  that  he  was  "  about  to 
take  a  leap  in  the  dark,"  he  said,  "  It  is  all  light  in  heaven ; 
they  have  no  need  of  the  sun  ;  the  Lord  is  their  light — I 
shall  soon  be  there," 

Again — "  I  am  failing  in  body,  but  in  faith  and  comfort 
I  am  growing  stronger  and  stronger  every  day.  A  door  is 
open  before  me  into  the  New  Jerusalem,  the  holy  city, 
where  are  the  angels  and  glorified  saints,  and  where  God  is. 
Oh  what  seasons  of  joy  are  there !  Christ  has  opened  this 
door,  and  invites  us  to  come  ;  Oh  that  men  would  forsake 
their  sins  and  come  to  Christ!"  He  was  asked  if  he  laid 
any  claim  to  heaven  on  the  ground  of  good  deeds.  "Oh, 
no ;  I  am  a  guilty  sinner.  It  is  a  wonder  that  I  was  spared. 
I  joined  with  the  wicked  in  all  their  reproaches  and  inju- 
rious reports  against  evangelical  ministers  and  Ciiristians." 

At  another  time  he  said,  "I  am  w^asting  away,  but  I  am 
not  afraid  of  death  or  of  hell.  God  is  with  me.  He  will 
be  with  me  in  the  dark  valley.  All  is  light — I  seem  to  look 
right  into  heaven.  I  did  not  know  before  that  any  one 
could  have  such  near  views  of  God  and  heaven." 

In  the  course  of  his  sickness  he  exhibited  remarkable 
patience  and  submission,  though  his  sufferings  the  last  two 
weeks  were  uncommonly  severe.  He  used  his  strength  in 
praising  God,  and  exhorting  his  brethren  and  fellow-citizens, 
nearly  two  hundred  of  whom  called  on  him  in  the  course 
of  his  confinement.  Some  hours  each  day  were  spent  in 
conversation  ;  and  he  once  said,  "  What  can  I  do  better 
than  to  talk  my  life  out  for  my  fellow-mortals  ?  Christ 
poured  out  his  life  for  a  guilty  world." 

On  one  of  the  family  rising  to  wait  upon  him,  he  said, 
"  I  sleep  under  the  banner  of  Christ ;  go  lay  yourself  down 
to  sleep  in  his  arms  ;  I  need  no  one  to  sit  up  ;  the  presence 
of  Christ  overshadows  me." 


8  THE  INFIDEL  RECLAIMED. 

At  another  time — "  I  feel  that  I  have  done  with  earth, 
and  I  have  comforting  views  of  Christ's  goodness  and  love, 
and  feel  no  choice  whether  to  live  or  die — ^just  as  God  wills. 
I  lay  myself  in  his  arms ;  his  Spirit  dwells  with  me.  Oh, 
the  wonderful  plan  of  salvation  !  I  never  sought  the  Lord, 
but  he  sought  me,  and  my  soul  shall  praise  him  for  ever." 

Again — "  Bless  the  Lord,  Oh  my  soul,  and  magnify  his 
name,  for  his  riches,  for  his  wonderful  kindness,  his  tender 
mercies  to  me  a  sinner.  Oh  the  joy  and  peace  in  believing  ! 
*  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered 
into  the  heart  of  man,  the  things  that  God  hath  prepared 
for  them  that  love  him.'  Blessed  be  the  name  of  that 
Saviour  who  allowed  me  to  enter  before  it  was  too  late. 
Oh,  had  I  sought  the  Lord  in  my  youth,  how  much  I  might 
have  enjoyed  !  All  you,  my  children,  remember  your  Creator 
now — now — even  to-day,  and  do  not  abuse  his  tender  care 
and  compassion," 

The  last  time  I  saw  him  alive,  was  two  days  before 
he  died.  He  said,  "I  may  live  till  to-morrow,  but  I  wish 
you  to  read  the  21st  chapter  of  the  Revelation,  contain- 
ing the  account  of  the  holy  city.  I  wish  to  hear  that  once 
more  hefore  I  diey  As  soon  as  the  reading  was  closed,  he 
said  with  great  earnestness,  "  Is  not  that  worth  living  for 
seventy  years  in  such  pain  and  anguish  as  I  now  endure  ? 
Yes,  oh  yes  ;  worth  thousands  and  thousands  of  years  of 
pain  to  obtain  such  an  eternal  inheritance." 

To  the  question,  "  Do  you  long  to  be  gone  ?"  he  an- 
swered, "  Not  till  my  work  is  done — not  till  my  heavenly 
Father  is  ready."  Just  before  he  ceased  to  breathe,  he  was 
asked,  "Do  you  know  that  you  are  going?"  "Yes,"  he 
replied,  "  Christ  is  just  at  hand." 

Thus  lived  and  thus  died  the  "  Infidel  reclaimed." 


PUBLISHED  BY   THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


TXo.  332. 

THE   SABBATH. 


Law  of  the  State  of  New  York, — "  There  shall  be 
no  shooting,  hunting,  fishing,  sporting,  playing,  horse-racing, 
gaming,  frequenting  of  tippling- houses,  or  any  unlawful 
exercises  or  pastimes,  on  the  first  day  of  the  week,  called 
Sunday  ;  nor  shall  any  person  travel  on  that  day,  unless  in 
cases  of  charity  or  necessity,  or  in  going  to  or  returning 
from  some  church  or  place  of  worship  ;  '^  ^  *  *  *  nor 
shall  there  be  any  servile  laboring  or  working  on  that  day, 
excepting  works  of  necessity  and  charity." 

Most,  if  not  all  the  states  in  the  Union  have  laws  essen- 
tially agreeing  with  the  above ;  and  this  protection  of  the 
Sabbath  has  obviously  grown  out  of  the  conviction  of  all 
intelligent  legislators,  that  a  holy  day  of  rest,  and  the  pub- 
lic worship  of  God,  ''are,"  as  the  statutes  of  Vermont  well 
express,  "  in  the  highest  degree  promotive  of  the  peace,  hap- 
piness, and  prosperity  of  a  people." 

Law  of  God. — ''Remember  the  Sabbath-day  to  keep 
it  holy.  Six  da3^s  shalt  thou  labor,  and  do  all  thy  work ; 
but  the  seventh  day  is  the  Sabbath  of  the  Lord  thy  God : 
in  it  thou  shalt  not  do  any  work,  thou,  nor  thy  son,  nor  thy 
daughter,  thy  man-servant,  nor  thy  maid-servant,  nor  thy 
cattle,  nor  thy  stranger  that  is  within  thy  gates ;  for  in  six 
days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earth,  the  sea,  and  all  that 
in  them  is,  and  rested  the  seventh  day  :  wherefore  the  Lord 
blessed  the  Sabbath-day,  and  hallowed  it."    Exod.  20 :  8-11. 

Promise  of  God. — "  If  thou  turn  away  thy  foot  from  the 
Sabbath,  from  doing  thy  pleasure  on  my  holy  day ;  and 
call  the  Sabbath  a  delight,  the  holy  of  the  Lord,  honorable ; 
and  shalt  honor  him,  not  doing  thine  own  ways,  nor  finding 
thine  own  pleasure,  nor  speaking  thine  own  words :  then 
shalt  thou  delight  thyself  in  the  Lord  ;  and  I  will  cause 
thee  to  ride  upon  the  high  places  of  the  earth,  and  feed 
thee  Avith  the  heritage  of  Jacob  thy  father :  for  the  mouth 
of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it."     Tsa.  58;  13,  14. 

VOL.  X.  2 


2  THE   SABBATH. 

Learned  men  have  abundantly  shown,  (particularly  in  a 
recent  examination  before  the  British  House  of  Commons,) 
that  the  horse  and  ox  live  longer,  perform  a  greater  amount 
of  service,  and  are  every  way  more  valuable  to  their  owners, 
when  allowed  to  rest  one  day  in  seven. 

The  Sabbath-day  of  rest  is  necessary  to  the  full  devel- 
opment of  our  physical  powers,  and  to  the  longest  continu- 
ance of  health.  Careful  examination  at  a  public  institution 
in  London,  employing  above  two  thousand  laborers,  proved 
that  more  work  was  performed  in  a  year,  when  the  Sabbath 
was  faithfully  kept,  than  during  the  same  amount  of  time, 
when  the  men  were  required  to  labor  every  day.  Planters 
in  the  West  Indies,  not  many  years  since,  worked  their 
slaves  on  the  Sabbath,  till  they  became  satisfied  that  this 
practice  was  a  pecuniary  loss  to  them.  It  produced  en- 
feebled constitutions  and  premature  death. 

The  Sabbath  is  one  of  the  strongest  safeguards  of  vir- 
tuous principle  in  the  young :  the  more  respectable  and 
amiable  virtues  will   be   seen  in  families  who  reo-ard  the 

o 

Lord's  day  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  well  known,  that 
children  rarely  honor  their  parents,  or  prove  a  blessing  to 
their  old  age,  unless  taught  to  honor  the  Sabbath. 

Sabbath-breaking  leaves  the  mind  to  be  filled  with  dark 
and  dangerous  errors,  in  regard  to  God  and  religion.  This 
sin  often  leads  men  far  into  scepticism,  and,  in  many  ways, 
tends  to  instability  of  character. 

Sabbath- breakers  are  generally  found  among  the  foul- 
mouthed  and  profane. 

It  is  believed  that  very  few  persons  ever  become  licen- 
tious or  drunken,  until  they  are  accustomed  to  desecrate 
the  Lord's  day. 

Sabbath-breaking  and  intemperance  have  produced  near- 
ly all  the  crime  committed  in  our  land.  In  Connecticut 
state  prison,  ninety,  out  of  one  hundred  convicts,  had  been 
habitual  Sabbath-breakers :  in  Massachusetts  state  prison, 
one  hundred  and  eighty-two,  out  of  two  hundred  and  fifty- 
six,  vrere  of  the  same  character.     Much  the  same  state  of 


THE    .SAHBATH.  3 

things  may  be  affirmed  of  Auburn,  and  probably  of  all  our 
public  penitentiaries.  The  testimony  of  magistrates  also,  so 
far  as  we  have  been  able  to  learn,  is,  that  those  concerned 
in  riots  and  assaults,  are  almost  universally  notorious  Sab- 
bath-breakers. 

A  gentleman,  acquainted  twenty-five  years  in  New  York 
city,  says  those  merchants  of  his  acquaintance  who  kept 
their  counting-rooms  open  on  the  Sabbath,  have  failed,  with 
scarcely  an  exception. 

History  most  clearly  proves  that  every  nation  and  com- 
munity has  been  prospered  while  it  honored  God's  Sab- 
bath ;  and  that  social  order  and  the  supremacy  of  law  have 
not  been  maintained  Avhere  the  Sabbath  has  been  trampled 
on.  Ancient  Israel  is  a  signal  proof  of  this  :  the  nations  of 
Western  Europe  illustrate  the  same  truth  ;  while  the  history 
of  our  own  New  England  most  conspicuously  demonstrates 
the  blessing  of  the  Christian  Sabbath. 

France  attempted  to  destroy  the  Lord's  day  by  public 
enactment,  but  brought  such  scenes  of  bloodshed  and  hor- 
ror upon  itself,  in  consequence,  that  the  Infidel  authorities 
were  compelled  to  restore  the  fourth  commandment,  and 
institute  religious  worship,  to  save  the  metropolis  and  king- 
dom from  utter  desolation. 

In  the  church  immediately  succeeding  the  apostolic  age, 
pagan  persecutors  detected  and  exposed  those  who  were 
disciples,  by  the  question,  Dominicum  servasti  ?  *'  Hast  thou 
kept  the  Lord's  day?"  And  the  uniform  answer  of  the 
believer  is  declared  by  a  distinguished  Roman  governor  to 
have  been,  "I  am  a  Christian,  I  cannot  omit  it." 

Sabbath-breakers,  so  far  as  can  be  known,  seldom  attain 
that  purity  of  heart  and  life  which  enables  them  to  die  in 
peace,  or  look  forward  with  solid  hope  to  a  blessed  immor- 
tality. 

To  Citizens. — Freemen,  will  you  not  faithfully  obey 
and  maintain  the  ordinance  of  your  own  legislators  respect- 
ing the  Sabbath  ?  Can  you  be  patriots  or  republicans  while 
your  example  tends  to  bring  into  contempt  any  one  of  the 


4  THE  SABBATH. 

laws  of  your  own  state?  As  you  prize  your  liberties,  be 
entreated  to  lend  your  whole  influence  in  favor  of  the  Chris- 
tian Sabbath :  civil  freedom  and  national  prosperity  cannot 
exist  without  it. 

To  Parents. — Will  you  not,  by  precept  and  example, 
sanctify  the  Sabbath  ?  Its  blessed  influence  is  all  needed 
in  training  your  children :  without  it,  you  cannot  educate 
them  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,  nor  can 
you  have  good  hope  of  leaving  them  with  fixed  moral  prin- 
ciple that  shall  carry  them  honorably  through  life. 

To  Magistrates. — You  have  sworn  to  maintain  the 
laws :  will  you,  then,  wink  at  profanations  of  the  Lord's 
day,  knowing  that  its  protection  is  necessary  to  the  mainte- 
nance of  all  the  great  interests  of  this  republic  ?  Above  all, 
will  you  break  the  Sabbath,  and  thus  lay  upon  your  soul 
the  awful  sin  of  violating  your  own  oath  ? 

To  Business  Men. — Be  entreated  to  require  your  work- 
men, your  mills,  your  boats,  your  shops,  and  your  legers, 
to  rest  on  the  Sabbath.  You  will  gain  nothing  substantial 
by  violating  this  law  of  your  country  and  your  God.  By 
desecrating  the  Lord's  day,  you  peril  every  thing  that  can 
be  dear. 

Finally,  this  little  Tract  addresses  itself  to  every  dying 
reader.  Will  you  not  henceforth  "  Remember  the  Sab- 
bath-day to  keep  it  holy  ?"  It  is  an  institution  rich  in  mercy 
and  blessing.  O,  turn  not  away  from  it ;  thrust  not  from 
you  its  hallowed  influences ;  lest  its  slighted  privileges 
weigh  you  down  in  deep  anguish  and  woe,  at  the  last,  as 
you  hear  this  word,  "So  I  sware  in  my  wrath,  they  shall 
not  enter  into  my  rest."  Heb.  3  :  11.  But,  dear  reader, 
love  the  Sabbath-day  ;  receive  it  with  gratitude,  with  glad- 
ness, as  the  type  and  earnest  of  that  Sabbath,  sweet,  unend- 
ing, glorious,  which  shall  be  to  the  people  of  God.  Heb.  4  :  9. 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


jVo.  333. 

MARKS 


OF 


RELIGIOUS  DECLENSION. 


1 .  When  you  are  reluctant  to  religious  conversation,  and 
the  company  of  serious,  heavenly-minded  Christians,  and 
enjoy  yourself  best  vvdth  men  of  the  vi^orld. 

2.  When,  from  preference,  you  are  absent  from  meetings 
for  prayer,  confine  yourself  to  Sabbath  meetings,  are  easily 
detained  from  them,  and  are  ready  to  excuse  such  neglects. 

3.  When  you  are  afraid  to  consider  certain  duties  se- 
riously, lest  your  conscience  rebuke  past  neglect,  and  insist 
on  fidelity  now, 

4.  When  it  is  more  your  object,  in  doing  duty,  to  pacify 
conscience,  than  to  honor  Christ,  obtain  spiritual  profit,  or 
do  good  to  others. 

5.  When  you  have  an  over- critical  spirit  respecting 
preaching ;  are  dissatisfied  vi^ith  the  tiumjier,  as  inelegant, 
too  plain,  too  intellectual,  or  not  according  to  some  favorite 
model ;  or  with  the  ^natter,  as  too  doctrinal,  or  too  precep- 
tive ;  or  when  you  complain  of  it  as  too  close,  or  are  suspi- 
cious of  personality. 

6.  When  you  are  more  afraid  of  being  accounted  strict, 
than  of  sinning  agauist  Christ  by  negligence  in  practice,  and 
unfaithfulness  "  to  your  Lord  and  Master." 

7.  When  you  have  little  fear  of  temptation,  and  can 
trifle  with  spiritual  danger. 

8.  When  you  thii-st  for  the  complacency  of  men  of  the 
world,  and  are  more  anxious  to  know  what  they  think  or 
say  of  you,  than  whether  you  honor  the  Saviour  in  their 
sight. 

9.  When  scandals  to  religion  are  more  the  subject  of 
your  censure,  than  of  your  secret  grieving  and  prayer  before 
God,  and  faithful  endeavors  for  their  removal. 

VOL.  X.  2* 


2  MARKS  OF  RELIGIOUS  DECLENSION. 

1 0 .  When  you  are  more  afraid  to  encounter  the  scorn  of 
an  offendmg  man,  by  rebuking  sin,  than  of  offending  God  by 
silence. 

1 1 .  When  you  are  more  bent  on  being  rich  than  holy. 

12.  When  you  cannot  receive  deserved  reproof  for  faults, 
are  unwilling  to  confess  them,  and  justify  yourself. 

13.  When  you  are  impatient  and  unforbearing  tow^ards 
the  frailties,  misjudgments,  and  faults  of  others. 

14.  When  your  reading  of  the  Bible  is  formal,  hasty, 
lesson-wise,  or  merely  intellectual,  and  miattended  with 
self-application  ;  or  when  you  read  almost  any  other  book 
with  more  interest  than  the  book  of  God. 

15.  When  you  have  more  religion  abroad  than  at  home  ; 
are  apparently  fervent  when  "  seen  of  men,"  but  languid 
when  seen  only  in  the  family,  or  by  God  alone. 

16.  When  your  religious  taste  is  more  for  the  new 
things  of  men,  than  for  the  old  things  of  the  treasury  of 
God's  word. 

17.  When  you  call  spiritual  sloth  and  withdrawraent 
from  Christian  activity  by  the  names  of  prudence  and  peace- 
ableness,  while  sinners  are  going  to  destruction,  and  the 
church  suffering  declension  ;  unmindful  that  prudence  can  be 
united  with  apostolic  fidelity,  and  peaceableness  with  most 
anxious  seeking  of  the  salvation  of  souls.     Also, 

18.  When,  because  there  is  false  zeal  abroad,  you  will 
neither  trust  yourself,  nor  others,  even  in  that  "  fervency  in 
spirit,  serving  the  Lord,"  which  Paul  taught  and  practised. 

19.  When  you  are  secretly  more  gratified  at  the  falls  of 
some  professor  of  reUgion,  than  grieved  for  the  wounds  he 
inflicts  upon  Christ. 

20.  When,  under  chastisement  of  Providence,  you  think 
more  of  your  sufferings  than  your  deserts,  and  look  more 
for  relief  than  purification  from  sin. 

21.  When  you  confess,  but  do  not  forsake  besetting  sin. 

22.  When  you  acknowledge,  but  still  ^neglect  duty. 

23.  When,  under  slight  temptations,  you  step  across  the 
strict,  straight   lines  of  the  divine  law ;    doing  improper 


MARKS  OF  RELIGIOUS  DECLENSION.  3 

things  on  the  Sabbath  ;  not  being  exactly  just  in  business 
transactions ;  swerving  from  strict  veracity ;  and  do  such 
things  without  much  shrinking  of  conscience. 

24.  When  your  cheerfulness  has  more  of  the  levity  of  the 
unregenerate,  than  of  the  holy  joy  of  a  son  of  God. 

25.  When  you  live  so  little  like  a  Christian,  that  you  are 
embarrassed  and  ashamed  in  attempting  religious  duties. 

26.  When  you  say  in  yourself,  of  this  or  that  mi,  "Is  it 
not  a  little  one?"  "the  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this 
thing ;"  and  think  so  lightly  of  sins  called  small,  that  you 
are  not  disturbed  respecting  great  ones ;  when,  also,  you 
laugh  at  sins  in  others,  instead  of  reproving  them,  and 
mourning  before  God. 

27.  When  the  liahit  of  neglecting  duty  is  plead  as  an 
excuse,  instead  of  an  aggravation,  and  a  reason  for  penitence. 

28.  When  you  have  so  many  worldly  plans,  and  please 
yourself  so  much  with  success,  that  you  are  unwilling  or 
afraid  to  think  of  death  ;  and  m  your  daily  manner  of  living 
say,  "  I  would  live  here  always." 

29.  When  you  think  more  of  being  saved  by  Christ,  than 
of  serving  Christ ;  more  of  security  of  heaven,  than  of  de- 
liverance from  sin,  saving  dying  men,  and  honoring  God. 

30.  When  you  shut  your  eyes  from  self-examination,  for 
fear  of  what  you  shall  find  in  yourself  to  alarm  you  and 
shake  your  hope, 

3 1 .  ^Tien  you  lean  on  the  opinion  of  others  that  you 
are  a  Christian,  instead  of  faithfully  searching  your  heart 
and  life,  and  comparing  them  with  the  "  sure  word." 

32.  When  you  speak  more  frequently  of  declension  in 
the  church,  than  in  your  own  heart ;  or  talk  of  both  more 
than  you  mourn  and  pray  before  God,  and  labor  for  a  better 
state  of  things. 

33.  When  the  worldly  spirit,  savor,  and  cares  of  the 
week  follow  you  farther  into  the  Sabbath,  than  the  spirit 
and  savor  of  the  Sabbath  follow  you  into  the  week. 

34.  When  you  are  easily  induced  to  make  your  duty  as 
a  Chi'istian  bend  to  your  icorldly  interest. 


4  MARKS  OF  RELIGIOUS  DECLENSION. 

35.  When  you  can  be  in  frequent  association  with  men 
of  the  world,  without  solicitude  lest  they  do  your  soul  hurt, 
or  you  do  theirs  no  good,  or  both. 

36.  When,  in  your  thoughts,  reading,  or  conversation  on 
religious  subjects,  your  clearness  of  head,  ingenuity,  and 
justness  of  conclusions,  outgo  your  spirituality,  and  heartiness, 
and  love  to  Christ  and  his  Gospel. 

37.  When  your  orthodoxy  is  the  most  or  all  there  is 
which  is  right  in  you ;  and  when  you  contend  more  about 
its  positions,  than  you  strive  for  holiness. 

38.  When  your  zeal,  instead  of  being  "  according  to 
knowledge,"  is  according  to  your  pride  and  prejudice;  and 
you  are  more  occupied  in  censuring  the  coldness  of  others, 
than  in  aflectionate  endeavors  to  persuade  them  to  do  their 
duty,  and  quietly  and  humbly  to  do  your  own. 

39.  When  your  activity  in  religion  depends  upon  the 
excitement  of  occasions,  instead  of  being  the  fruit  of  steady, 
spiritual-minded,  disinterested  principle  ;  and  when  you  take 
more  delight  in  the  bustle  of  outward  and  popular  religious 
movements,  than  in  secret  communion  with  God,  and  in 
duties  in  which  you  are  retired  from  the  notice  of  men. 

40.  When  you  think  more  of  "  the  mote  in  your  brother's 
eye,"  than  of  the  "beam  in  your  own." 

41.  When  you  find  it  difficult  to  tell  wherein  you  are 
essentially  different,  as  to  your  state  of  heart  and  habits  of 
life,  from  what  you  were  before  you  professed  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian. 

Declining  professor  of  religion,  will  you  use  these  pages 
as  a  help  to  self-examination,  that  you  may  know  yourself 
and  your  state.  "  Be  not  deceived,  God  is  not  mocked  ;  for 
whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap."  "  Be 
watchful,  and  strengthen  the  things  that  remain  and  are 
ready  to  die  ;  for  I  have  not  found  thy  works  perfect  before 
God." 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


]¥o.  354. 


THE 


MOTHER'S  LAST  PRAYER; 

OR, 

GEORGE    VINING. 

A  NARRATIVE  OF  FACTS. 


In  the  year  1Y92,  I  was  called  to  the  pastoral  charge 
of  a  congregation  of  new  settlers  who  had  removed  from 

the  vicinity  of  Boston,  and  located  themselves  at  P ,  on 

the  Green  Mountains,  in  the  same  state.  Some  of  them 
had  sat  under  preaching  far  from  evangelical,  but  their 
common  hardships  constituted  a  bond  of  union  ;  and  as  soon 
as  they  had  made  an  opening  in  the  forest,  and  provided  a 
shelter  for  their  families,  they  united  without  a  dissenting 
voice  to  secure  the  public  ordinances  of  the  Gospel.  It  was 
an  interesting  scene  when  they  assembled,  at  the  earliest 
dawn  of  day,  to  raise  the  heavy  timbers  for  a  house  of  wor- 
ship. I  believe  that  every  male  inhabitant  of  the  district 
was  present,  and  the  stillness  of  night  yet  reigned  when  I 
was  called  to  lead  them  in  invoking  the  blessing  of  God. 

No  people  were  ever  apparently  more  harmonious  ;  yet 
I  soon  discovered,  in  a  number  of  individuals,  a  decided  hos- 
tility to  the  humbling  doctrines  of  the  Gospel.  Among 
these  was  George  Vining,  who,  at  the  time  of  my  settle- 
ment, Avas  thirty- eight  years  of  age.  He  had  been  early 
left  an  orphan ;  at  eight  was  placed  as  an  apprentice  in  an 
irreligious  family ;  was  married  at  twenty- two  ;  and  then 
sat  for  thirteen  years  under  preaching  which  inculcated  a 
good  moral  life  as  the  ground  of  acceptance  with  God. 

He  was  eminently  a  self-made  man.  His  mind  was 
vigorous  and  independent ;  his  thoughts  original,  and  often 
expressed  with  surprising  terseness  and  force.     His  mind 


2  THE  MOTHER'S  I.AST  PRAYER. 

was  metal  i7i  the  ore.  For  fifteen  years  he  was  one  of  the 
,  most  attentive  hearers  I  addressed  ;  but  it  was  only  to  parry 
every  argument  and  reject  every  truth  that  conflicted  with 
his  system  of  salvation. 

The  Holy  Spirit  converted  many  around  him,  and  among 
them  the  wife  of  his  bosom ;  but  the  only  visible  effect  on 
him  was  to  render  him  more  decided  in  defending  his  own 
opinions.  She  has  told  me,  that  on  returning  from  public 
worship,  she  always  dreaded  to  take  a  seat  with  him  on  the 
horse,  which  was  their  only  conveyance,  as  he  failed  not  to 
go  home  quarrelling  with  the  truths  he  had  heard ;  and 
what  was  worse,  to  vent  his  bitterness  against  them  in  the 
presence  of  his  family  of  six  sons  and  five  daughters,  all  of 
whom  were  far  from  God.  If  his  wife  uttered  a  word  in 
their  defence,  his  a,uthoritative  tone  would  silence  her,  and 
thus  secure  the  argument. 

He  indulged  himself  in  like  manner  in  the  circle  at  the 
public-house,  whither  he  loved  to  repair  from  the  labors  of 
his  farm,  to  exchange  horses,  and  mingle  his  social  feelings 
as  the  glass  passed  briskly ;  and  where  his  loud  voice,  his 
ready  wit,  and  his  bitter  thrusts  at  vital  religion,  gave  him 
a  sad  prefiminence. 

The  town  is  intersected  by  a  small  river,  with  long  and 
steep  acclivities  on  either  side,  spreading  out,  as  they  recede, 
into  beautiful  table-lands  gradually  ascending,  bringing  a 
large  part  of  the  farms  and  dwellings  of  the  inhabitants  in 
full  view  of  each  other,  and  presenting,  in  distant  prospect, 
the  spires  of  a  number  of  neighboring  churches.  Vining's 
residence  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  gulf,  about  two 
miles  from  my  own,  and  as  some  of  my  shade-trees  excluded 
the  public-house  from  his  view,  he  rudely  but  honestly 
requested  their  removal.  That  public-house  was  his  para- 
dise, where  the  native  brilliancy  of  his  mind  sparkled  and 
was  admired.  Often,  as  I  sat  in  my  study  on  Saturday 
evening,  endeavoring  to  prepare  my  mind  and  heart  for  the 
Lord's  day,  have  I  heard  the  rude  trampling  of  horses  pass- 
ing rapidly  by,  as  the  group  dispersed,  and  recognized  Vin- 
ing's voice  drowning  that  of  his  companions,  and  perhaps 
convulsincr  them  with  lauw'hter. 

Yet  on  the  following  morning  he  would  be  early  at  the 
house  of  God,  and  always  listen  with  attention.  Not  un- 
frequently  he  would  call  on  me,  perhaps  abruptly  com- 


THE  MOTHER'S  LAST  PRAYER.  3 

mencing  his  interview  by  saying,  "  Well,  Mr.  H ,  I  like 

you  as  a  man,  but  I  don't  like  your  preaching.  I  don't 
believe  the  heart  is  depraved,  as  you  represent  it ;  I  suppose 
you  think  what  you  preach  is  true,  but  I  don't." 

He  would  then  sit  down  and  debate  the  point,  often  with 
much  shrewdness,  till,  feeling  that  enough  had  been  said, 
and  seeming  to  have  an  instinctive  apprehension  of  the  value 
of  a  minister's  time,  he  would  rise,  seize  his  hat,  kindly  bid 
me  farewell,  and  in  an  instant  would  be  gone. 

In  one  of  these  visits,  when  his  mind  had  become  intent 
on  the  arguments  for  and  against  the  doctrines  of  the  cross, 
he  broke  out  in  a  loud,  half-ironical  tone,  with  a  shrewd 
glance  of  the  eye,  as  if  he  were  condescending  to  our  relig- 
ious weakness,  and  with  astonishing  recklessness  of  feeling, 
"  Well,  perhaps  I  shall  come  over  yet.  They  say — I  know 
nothing  about  it — but  they  say  my  mother  died  when  I  was 

TWO  WEEKS  OLD,  AND  JUST  BEFORE  SHE  BREATHED  HER  LAST, 
SHE  TOOK  ME  IN  HER  ARMS  AND  BLESSED  ME,  AND  GAVE  ME 

UP  TO  God  !" 

"Mr.  Vining  may  yet  be  brought  in,"  said  my  now  de- 
parted wife  when  he  was  gone,  with  a  breaking  heart,  and 
hoping  against  hope :  "  God  is  a  prayer-hearing  God,  and 
that  mother's  last  prayer  may  yet  be  answered." 

He  had  now  been  hardening  in  sin  more  than  fifty  years. 
His  oldest  son  had  left  the  paternal  roof,  and  apparently 
inheriting  all  his  father's  faults,  with  little  of  his  stability 
of  character,  changed  from  one  object  to  another,  till  he 
located  himself  in  D ,  Vermont,  on  the  borders  of  Can- 
ada, and  engaged  in  the  traffic  of  lumber.  With  the  minis- 
trations of  the  sanctuary,  he  had  taken  leave  of  the  Bible ; 
the  Sabbath  he  profaned  by  business  or  amusement ;  and 
he  loved  the  exhilaration  of  the  festive  bowl. 

But  a  prayer-hearing  God  had  his  purposes  of  mercy, 
and  was  not  straitened  in  his  means  of  fulfilling  them. 
Through  the  example  and  influence  of  a  pious  lady,  an 
impression  was  made  on  his  mind  that  religion  is  a  reality, 
and  that  he  must  be  "  horn  again,'"  or  perish.  He  struggled 
to  conceal  his  alarm ;  obtained  some  fragments  of  a  Bible, 
studied  them  in  secret,  and  soon  saw  clearly  that  he  was 
ruined  by  sin,  that  there  was  no  hope  but  in  Christ,  and 
was  brought  humbly  to  accept  of  his  mercy.  His  thoughts 
quicklv  reverted  to  his  obdurate  father  and  his  almost  dis- 


4  THE  MOTHER'S  LAST  PRAYER. 

consolate  mother ;  and  without  delay  he  wrote  them  all  the 
feelings  of  his  heart. 

The  father  soon  called  on  me,  saying,  with  his  charac- 
teristic frankness,  and  with  unusual  apparent  seriousness, 

*'  Mr.  H ,  we  have  received  a  most  surprising  letter  from 

my  son  F .     He  is  up  there  in  the  wilderness,  with  no 

means  of  grace,  and  thinks  he  is  converted  ;  and  it  is  unac- 
countable to  me  that,  ignorant  as  he  was  about  religion,  he 
tells  the  same  story  that  you  do.  I  confess,  it  looks  some 
like  being  taught  by  'one  and  the  same  Spirit.'  " 

It  was  not  long  before  this  son  visited  his  parents.  His 
heart  was  full,  and  he  related  to  the  listening  family  what 
he  had  experienced ;  ascribing  it  all  to  the  sovereign  mercy 
of  God,  who  had  opened  his  blind  eyes,  showed  him  his  sin 
and  danger,  and  led  him  to  the  Saviour. 

As  he  unfolded  God's  dealings  with  him,  a  conflict 
words  cannot  describe  agitated  his  mother's  heart.  To 
hear  such  language  from  his  lips  was  indeed  "  life  from  the 
dead  ;"  but  at  every  new  disclosure  she  trembled,  lest  her 
husband  should  break  out  in  wrath  against  the  hated  truths 
he  uttered,  denouncing  the  whole  as  fanaticism,  and  vindi- 
cate, with  increased  obstinacy,  his  cherished  errors.  The 
depravity  of  the  human  heart,  the  sovereignty  of  the  divine 
purposes,  dependence  on  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  salvation 
solely  through  the  efficacy  of  atoning  blood,  were  doctrines 
with  which  he  had  been  at  war  ever  since  he  came  to  years 
of  discretion.  But  he  heard  in  silence  the  whole  narration 
of  his  son,  and  then  only  added,  with  much  seriousness,  "  / 
do  not  hnoiv  hut  these  things  are  so." 

He  was  soon  again  at  my  house,  related  all  his  son  had 
said,  and  with  a  solemnity  and  tenderness  I  had  never  ob- 
served before,  added,  "  If  these  things  are  so,  all  my  hopes 
are  without  foundation." 

A  few  evenings  afterwards  he  accompanied  his  wife  to 
the  residence  of  one  of  his  daughters  who  had  recently 
married,  but  the  great  subject  of  salvation  so  pressed  upon 
his  heart,  that  he  could  not  be  induced  to  take  a  mouthful 
of  the  plain  refreshment  provided.  "  Mr.  Vining,"  said  the 
wife  of  his  pastor  to  him  on  this  occasion,  "  how  greatly 
should  we  rejoice  to  have  you  submit  to  Christ.  Not  only 
would  your  own  soul  be  saved,  but  you  might  then  be  a 
blessing  to  your  family  and  the  church   of  God.     If  you 


THE  MOTHER'S  LAST  PRAYER.  5 

live  and  die  as  you  are,  you  will  be  no  substantial  benefit 
to  either,  but  must  spend  an  eternity  in  misery." 

Those  words,  he  afterwards  said,  sunk  into  his  heart. 
That  night  he  scarcely  closed  his  eyes.  His  long- cherished 
views  of  the  method  of  salvation  appeared  baseless  as  a 
dream.  He  saw  he  must  have  light  from  the  Bible,  and  aid 
from  the  Holy  Spirit,  or  perish.  He  was  dumb  in  his  op- 
position to  the  doctrines  of  the  cross,  and  felt  that  he  needed 
unmerited  mercy.  He  came  to  me  again  and  again.  "  / 
noiv  see,"  said  he,  "  what  neither  you  nor  all  other  ministers 
could  have  convinced  me  of,  that  I  am  totally  deinaved.'" 

He  saw  that  God  would  be  just  in  his  condemnation, 
but  his  heart  rose  against  that  justice.  All  his  former  refu- 
ges failed.  He  felt  that  he  was  sinking,  and  needed  some 
deliverer ;  yet  all  we  could  do  was  unavailing  to  bring  him 
to  accept  of  Christ.  At  every  religious  meeting  he  would 
be  present,  borne  down  with  the  weight  of  his  sins.  He 
had  cherished  them  for  half  a  century,  and  cherished  his 
unbelief.  He  wondered  that  the  patience  of  God  had  not 
long  since  been  exhausted,  and  saw  not  but  he  must  lie 
down  in  eternal  sorrow.  In  the  interval  of  public  worship, 
he  was  one  of  many  who  came  to  my  house  to  spend  the 
hour  in  religious  conversation  and  prayer.  "  How  are  you, 
to-day,  Mr.  Vining?"  said  one  very  tenderly.  "He  hath 
hedged  me  about,  that  I  cannot  get  out ;  he  hath  made  my 
chain  heav}',"  was  his  only  reply,  and  in  tones  that  indicated 
the  crushing  weight  of  a  burden  whicli  God  only  could  remove. 

Another  Sabbath  arrived  before  he  would  yield  the 
contest  with  his  Maker.  A  discourse  that  day  on  the  judg- 
ment, he  said,  "  was  the  first  sermon  I  ever  heard ;  I  saw 
myself  at  the  bar  of  God,  with  my  sins  all  before  me.  A 
lie  that  I  told  when  a  child,  and  which  I  had  not  thought 
of /or  iliirty  years,  came  as  fresh  to  my  memory  as  if  it  had 
been  yesterday.  My  whole  life  appeared  filled  up  Avith  sin 
against  a  holy  God.  I  saw  there  was  nothing  in  me  but 
sin — that  God's  law  condemned  me  to  the  lowest  hell,  and 
that  it  was  just.  God  then  appeared  to  be  as  glorious  in 
\)Ss>  justice  as  in  his  mercy. 

"At  evening,"  he  continued,  "as  I  approached  the  pray- 
er-meeting, I  heard  them  singing,  from  the  119th  Psalm, 

'  My  soul  lies  cleaving  to  the  dust — 
Lord,  g-ive  me  life  divine.' 
VOL.  X.  3 


^  THE  MOTHER'S  LAST  PRAYER. 

The  feelings  of  my  heart,  as  those  precious  words  fell  on 
my  ear,  T  can  never  describe ;  they  reached  my  inmost 
soul.  Never  did  I  hear  music  so  melodious,  like  one  of 
the  songs  of  heaven.  I  saw  that  I  was  vile,  but  that  in 
Christ  there  was  an  ocean  of  love  and  mercy.  I  saw  he 
justly  claimed  all  my  heart,  and  I  wished  to  give  him  all. 
I  wanted  an  eternity  and  angelic  powers  to  praise  him,  I 
wondered  that  there  could  be  a  rebel  on  earth  unmoved  by 
his  love  and  his  glorious  perfections,  and  longed  that  he 
should  be  honored  and  praised  by  every  child  of  Adam." 

The  whole  subsequent  life  of  Mr.  Vining  showed  that 
the  change  was  real.  He  pubhcly  professed  Christ  by 
uniting  with  the  church,  and  became  not  only  an  attentive, 
but  a  spiritual  worshipper.  The  idle  group  at  the  public- 
house  was  deserted,  and  his  delight  was  in  the  company  of 
the  devout.  He  loved  prayer,  and  for  many  years  was  the 
principal  supporter  of  regular  weekly  prayer-meetings  in 
his  neicrhborhood.  He  was  a  fearless  and  decided  Chris- 
tian.  Much  of  the  native  roughness  of  his  character  re- 
mained, but  a  life  of  consistent  piety  gave  unquestionable 
evidence  that  he  had  *'  been  horn  again.'' 

Two  or  three  traits  in  his  character  deserve  special 
notice.     One  of  these  was. 

His  study  of  the  Bible.  As  he  had  few  or  no  helps  in 
commentaries,  he  brought  his  own  powers  more  diligently 
and  prayerfully  to  the  work  of  "  comparing  Scripture  with 
Scripture,"  and  thus  understanding  its  spiritual  import ;  and 
it  became  to  him  an  exhaustless  fountain  at  once  of  enter- 
tainment and  of  religious  knowledge.  Almost  from  Sab- 
bath to  Sabbath  he  came  to  me  in  the  interval  of  worship, 
as  an  humble  inquirer  for  light  on  some  portion  of  the  in- 
spired word.  With  an  adroitness  peculiar  to  himself,  he 
would  almost  break  into  my  study,  (where  he  knew  he  was 
Avelcome,)  instantly  propose  his  inquiry,  and  as  suddenly 
depart. 

There  was  always  pertinency  in  his  inquiries,  and  his 
original  thoughts  and  childlike  docility  often  quickened  my 
ideas  of  truth,  and  warmed  and  animated  my  heart. 

Another  subject  that  continually  pressed  sore  upon  him, 
was  the  unhappy  infiuence  he  had,  before  his  conversion, 
exerted  upon  others,  and  especially  upon  his  children.  He 
did   not   doubt   divine  forgriveness,   but   feared   souls  were 


THE  MOTHER'S  LAST  PRAYER.  7 

already  lost,  and  others  pressing  their  way  irreclaimably  to 
perdition,  through  his  ungodly  example  and  influence  ;  and 
he  could  not  cease  to  mourn  over  the  consequences  of  his 
guilt.  Never  did  he  speak  to  me  of  his  neglect  of  his  chil- 
dren without  tears. 

"  I  neither  prayed,"  said  he,  "  with  them  nor  for  them. 
I  long  for  the  privilege  of  consecrating  them  to  God  from 
their  earliest  existence,  and  training  them  in .  infancy  and 
childhood  to  fear  him  ;  but  most  of  them  are  out  of  my 
reach.  Some  are  heads  of  families,  some  are  far  away,  and 
one  is  dead." 

Equally  did  he  reproach  himself  for  his  unceasing  con- 
tention with  the  truth.  "I  depended  for  salvation,"  said 
he,  *'  upon  my  Pharisaic  religion  of  a  moral  life,  and  I  had 
not  even  that." 

He  was  also  intent  on  redeeming  the  time.  On  one 
occasion,  when  a  heavy  rain  had  fallen  on  a  deep  snow 
towards  the  close  of  Avinter,  and  rendered  the  roads  almost 
utterly  impassable,  some  one  unexpectedly  knocked  at  my 
door — it  was  Vining,  wet  as  if  he  had  been  wading  a  river. 
He  had  come  two  miles  on  foot,  descending  and  climbing 
the  long  hills :  his  hard  countenance  expressed  the  deepest 
emotion — his  lips  trembled,  and  the  bursting  of  his  heart 
almost  prevented  utterance. 

"I  want,"  said  he,  "  Mr.  H ,  that  you  should  'come 

over  into  Macedonia  and  help  us.'  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord, 
I  am  sure,  is  among  us.  We  had  a  very  solemn  meeting 
last  evening.  A  number  of  persons  seem  deeply  anxious 
for  their  salvation,  and  two  or  three  are  indulging  hope." 

This  hardened  sinner,  who  for  more  than  fifteen  years 
had  been  my  grief,  was  now  for  nearly  an  equal  period  my 
consolation,  support,  and  joy  in  the  ministry — "my  helper 
in  Christ  Jesus."  And  in  his  death,  which  occurred  April 
8,  1822,  at  the  age  of  67,  he  exhibited  that  calm  resigna- 
tion and  that  blessed  peace  and  hope  which  the  Gospel 
inspires. 

Reader,  mark,  in  the  above  faithful  and  unadorned 
narrative  of  facts,  the  display  of  God's  boundless  grace,  and 
the  necessity  and  reality  of  the  new  birth.  Had  you  seen 
Vining  one  year  before  his  conversion,  you  would  have  said 
he  was  among  the  most  hopeless  of  men.  But  "  the  blood 
of  Jesus  Christ,"  that  blood  which  he  long  persisted  in 


8  THE  MOTHER'S  LAST  PRAYER. 

rejecting,  applied  through  the  sanctifying  influences  of  the 
-Holy  Spirit,  "  cleanseth  from  all  sin." 

Observe  also  how  God  miswers  grayer,  and  by  what  a 
train  of  distant  and  apparently  unconnected  events,  he  can 
fulfil  his  merciful  designs.  Perhaps  this  Tract  has  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  a  mother^  who  trembles  lest  she  shall  train 
up  children  for  perdition.  All  we  know  of  Vining's  mother 
is  the  simple  record,  "  Just  before  she  breathed  her  last,  she 
took  me  in  her  arms  and  blessed  me,  and  gave  me  up  to  God.''^ 
That  mother's  last  prayer  reached  over  an  ungodly  life 
of  half  a  century.  It  was  not  forgotten  of  God.  He  met 
the  wandering,  reckless  grandson  in  the  wilderness,  and 
through  him  reached  and  subdued  the  hardened  heart  of 
the  son,  grown  old  in  rebellion  and  prejudice.  Give  me 
poverty,  chain  me  in  the  dungeon,  bind  me  to  the  mar- 
tyr's stake,  but  deny  me  not  the  prayers  of  a  godly  mMher. 

Is  any  one  so  dead  to  every  tender  and  moving  consid- 
eration as  to  DELAY  REPENTANCE  bccause  Vining  at  last 
found  mercy  ?  Will  you,  as  he  did,  provoke  God's  Avrath, 
and  hazard  the  rejection  of  Christ,  till  your  sins  rise  up  like 
mountains  between  your  soul  and  heaven  ?  Beware,  0  be- 
ware, lest  God,  who  glorified  his  grace  in  rescuing  him, 
glorify  his  justice  in  condemning  you.  Even  now  you  may 
be  "grieving  the  Holy  Spirit."  He  may  be  ready  to  de- 
part, and  you  "find  no  place  for  repentance."  One  hour's 
delay  is  at  your  peril.  Noiv  God  invites  you — now  the 
bleeding  Saviour  claims  your  whole  heart.  Will  you  thrust 
him  away  ?  Can  you  dehberately  postpone  a  matter  of  such 
amazing  interest  ?  Remember,  that  while  one  hardened 
sinner  of  fifty  years  has  found  mercy,  thousands  have  per- 
sisted in  iniquity,  and  perished  for  ever ! 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


IVo.  355. 

THE 


RINGLEADER. 


AN  AUTHENTIC  NARRATIVE. 


It  is  well  known  to  those  who  are  acquainted  with 

college,  that  a  ringleader  is  regularly  chosen  from  each  senior 
class.  There  are  some  little  formalities  on  the  occasion,  such 
as  a  short  speech,  and  the  presentation  of  a  club,  which  has 
been  handed  down  through  successive  generations,  and  which 
is  the  badge  of  his  official  station. 

The  selection  of  a  ringleader  is  made  with  a  view  to 
strength  and  muscular  activity,  and  has  no  particular  refer- 
ence to  scholarship  or  genius.  It  sometimes  happens  that 
the  choice — as  in  the  case  of  which  I  shall  speak — falls  on 
one  who  possesses  a  happy  combination  of  both  mental  and 
bodily  vigor.  It  is  expected  that  the  ringleader  will  head 
his  fellow-students  in  any  affray,  offensive  or  defensive,  in 
which  their  honor  or  persons  may  be  in  danger. 

I  make  these  remarks  merely  to  introduce  S C , 

who  was  unanimously  chosen  to  the  above  office  by  the 
suffrages  of  his  classmates.  Never  was  there  a  more  pop- 
ular selection.  One  would  not  imagine,  at  first  sight,  that 
so  much  muscular  power  dwelt  in  such  a  frame.  He  was 
rather  above  the  middle  size,  thin,  and  very  erect,  his  head 
thrown  so  far  back  as  almost  to  be  out  of  the  line  of  his 
body  ;  and  his  gait  was  characterized  by  a  remarkable  bold- 
ness and  freedom.     His  countenance  bespoke  his  character. 

It  Avas  open  as  the  day.     It  seemed  to  beruvi  with  courage 
VOL.  X.  3*- 


2  THE  RINGLEADER. 

and  generosity.  The  light  of  genius  was  visible  also  in  his 
small  but  piercing  eye,  which  harmonized  perfectly  with  a 

fine  aquihne  nose.     Such  was  S C in  person,  as  I 

first  knew  him. 

As  to  his  mind,  it  was  like  his  form,  partaking  both  of 
strength  and  freedom.  He  was  a  good  scholar  without  any 
great  effort ;  for  he  had  a  singular  quickness  of  perception, 
and  more  than  common  genius.  The  book  which  he  read 
most  was  Shakspeare ;  and  his  principal  study  seemed  to 
be  the  human  mind  and  heart,  as  developed  in  himself  and 
others.  He  had  a  style  of  manners  peculiarly  his  own : 
all  was  nature,  but  it  was  nature  on  a  chivalrous  and  gen- 
erous scale.  He  was  as  incapable  of  meanness  as  any 
human  being  I  ever  saw.  He  loved  society,  and  was  the 
centre  of  attraction  in  every  circle.  But  he  was  accustomed 
also  to  solitude ;  and  seemed  fond  of  roaming  alone  in  the 
still,  deep  woods,  conversing  with  his  own  reflections,  and 
gathering  images  and  ideas  fresh  from  the  storehouse  of  na- 
ture. He  had  a  soul  whose  emotions  were  deep — intensely 
deep.  Indeed,  no  ordinary  mind  could  fully  sympathize  with 
his.  On  a  subject  which  interested  him,  he  would  launch 
forth  in  strains  the  most  energetic  and  eloquent,  until  every 
muscle  would  speak,  and  his  beaming,  often  tearful  eye, 
would  tell  you  what  was  passing  within.  He  was,  in  fact, 
the  idol  of  his  class.  If  any  felt  envy,  it  was  not  towards 
him.      All  conceded  to  his  fine  muscular  proportions  of 

body  and  mind.     It  should  be  stated,  however,  that  S 

C was  not  so  remarkable  for  a  talent  at  fine  writing  as 

for  an  eloquent  style  of  conversation.  His  soul  had  too 
much  emotion,  and  the  current  of  his  ideas  was  too  impetu- 
ous for  the  deliberation  of  writing  ;  but  who  that  ever  heard 
him  converse  was  not  reminded  of  the  richness  and  copious- 
ness of  a  Johnson  or  a  Burke  ? 

But  was  this  man  a  Christian  ?     Ah,  reader,  this  is  a 


THE  RINGLEADER.  3 

question  which  the  sequel  will  unfold.  He  was  not  at  the 
time  I  am  speaking  of — no,  he  was  apparently  the  farthest 
from  it.  Only  think  of  his  situation.  He  knew  religion 
but  at  a  distance,  and  could  scarcely  catch  the  outline  of 
her  fair  proportions.  His  Shakspeare  was  his  Bible.  His 
companions  were  the  gay,  the  thoughtless,  even  the  scorner 
of  religion.  Between  him  and  the  pious  stood  a  circle  of 
proud-spirited,  and,  in  many  instances,  dissipated  compan- 
ions, who  echoed  every  sentiment  he  uttered,  and  were  ready 
to  swear,  that  as  he  was  the  strongest,  so  also  was  he  the 
noblest  fellow  they  ever  knew.  See  what  an  influence 
girded  him  about.  How,  I  may  almost  ask,  was  it  possible 
for  the  ringleader  to  bow  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  ?  But  with 
God  all  things  are  possible ;  and  let  no  man  despair  of  the 
conversion  of  his  fellow-man,  so  long  as  God  holds  the 
heart  in  his  hand. 

S C was  not  forgotten  by  the  pious,  if  he 

overlooked  or  even  despised  them.  Said  they,  "  What  a 
pity  such  a  man  and  such  a  mind  should  be  lost  to  the  cause 
of  God."  *' 0,  if  those  native  traits  were  but  consecrated 
to  Jesus,  what  a  minister  would  they  embody."  "Let  us 
pray  for  him  ;"  and  they  did  sincerely,  and,  as  I  shall  show, 
effectually.  "  The  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  a  righteous 
man  availeth  much,"  Let  Christians  select  particular  per- 
sons as  subjects  of  prayer,  and  persevere  until  God  answers 
them  ;  for  he  "that  converteth  the  sinner  from  the  error  of 
his  way,  shall  save  a  soul  from  death." 

It  pleased  God,  in  the  senior  year  of  S C ,  to 

visit  the  college  with  the  special  influences  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  Well  do  I  remember  the  scene.  The  whole  col- 
lege inclosure  was  solemn  as  the  threshold  of  eternity.  One 
and  another  of  the  pious  students  were  seen  weeping  and 
at  prayer,  until  deep  feeling,  religious  feeling,  as  I  verily 
believe,  pervaded  the  little  church.     All  took  knowledge 


THE  RINGLEADER. 


of  it,  from  the  president  to  the  lowest  member  of  the  insti- 
tution ;  and  each  was  ready  to  admit  that  an  invisible  but 
powerful  influence  was  stealing  over  the  mind.  At  many  a 
pious  student's  door  was  heard  the  gentle  tap  for  admit- 
tance, even  at  the  midnight  hour  ;  and  when  opened,  some 
poor  wanderer  presented  himself  in  tears,  and  begged  to 
know  what  he  must  do  to  be  saved.  The  number  of  the 
convicted  multiplied  rapidly,  and  ever  and  anon  were  seen 
the  eyes  of  a  liberated  soul  glistening  with  the  emotions  of 
new-born  hope.  0,  it  was  a  blessed  season.  Let  the  infi- 
del deride  and  call  us  fanatics ;  let  the  formahst  pronounce 
it  folly  ;  but  we  will  remember  the  days  of  the  right  hand 
of  the  Most  High.  Return,  0  God,  and  renew  these  visits 
of  thy  mercy.  Here  were  not  the  weak-minded  to  be  duped 
with  what  scoffers  term  the  "incantations  of  the  priests;" 
no:  God  was  moving  on  minds  of  a  high  order — choice 
spirits,  who  are  now  wielding  influences  which  are  felt  in 
the  four  quarters  of  the  globe.  Away,  then,  with  that  low 
infidel  sneer  which  says  that  "  none  but  the  weak-minded 
are  aftected  by  revivals." 

But  where  was  S C all  this  while  ?     Reader, 

he  was  in  the  hearts  and  in  the  prayers  of  the  pious ;  but 
as  yet  he  was  not  converted.  He  saw  what  was  going  on. 
Indeed,  how  could  he  fail  to  see  it,  for  it  invaded  his  own 
circle  ;  and,  smitten  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  some  left  him  and 

his  gay  companions  to  their  mirth.     S C was  ill 

at  ease.  Conscience  was  at  work ;  but  there  was  a  des- 
perate struggle  to  put  it  to  silence.  He  was  more  reckless, 
apparently,  than  ever.  His  voice  was  louder,  and  his  feats 
of  strength  and  agility  elicited  great  applause.  He  seemed 
determined  to  stand  out  against  all  that  was  serious,  and  to 
show  that  he  and  his  party  were  not  to  be  subdued  even  by 
God  himself.  But  Christians  had  him  in  their  eye.  They 
felt  for  him,  and  prayed  for  him.     Their  dependence  was 


THE  RINGLEADER.  5 

on  God.  They  knew  that  if  this  strong  pillar  fell,  the 
sound  of  it  would  shake  the  whole  college.  Some,  who 
watched  him  narrowly,  discovered  in  his  very  efforts  against 
seriousness  an  incipient  movement  of  soul.  They  expressed 
their  belief.  Prayer  was  unceasingly  made  for  him.  Jt 
was  soon  evident  that  there  was  something  strange  in  his 
appearance  and  conduct.  He  was  seen  at  times  alone  and 
downcast.  0  the  struggle  which  his  proud  spirit  under- 
went. None  can  know  it  who  have  not  themselves /i??^  it. 
"  What,  I  become  a  Christian !  /,  who  am  the  ringleader, 
the  centre  of  attraction  to  so  many  gay  and  careless  spirits  !" 
Then,  as  we  may  suppose,  would  he  dash  the  thought 
away,  and  brace  himself  anew  against  the  impression. 

But  the  strong  man  armed  was  not  too  strong  for  God. 
Conviction,  dark  and  dreadful,  did  roll  in  upon  that  soul. 
It  unmanned  him.  It  made  him  a  child.  But,  as  a  last 
desperate  effort  at  concealment,  he  asked  leave  of  the  pres- 
ident to  go  home.  He  could  not  state  the  reason ;  it  was 
of  a  private  nature.  Leave  was  granted,  and  the  con- 
science-smitten man  is  seen  taking  his  seat  in  the  carriage 
which  is  to  convey  him  to  his  native  village.  So  clandes- 
tinely did  he  go,  that  the  inquiry  was  everywhere,  *'  What 

has  become  of  S C ?"     But  none  could  say  why 

he  had  gone,  nor  where. 

But  who  can  escape  from  God  ?  *'  If  we  ascend  up  to 
heaven,  he  is  there ;  and  if  we  make  our  bed  in  hell,  behold, 
he  is  there."  What  his  thoughts  were  in  the  stage-coach 
none  can  tell.  We  may  imagine,  however.  Reader,  they 
were  probably  what  yours  will  be,  if  you  attempt,  by  change 
of  place,  to  get  away  from  the  convictions  of  the  Holy 

Spirit.     S C is  roused  from  his  reflections  by  the 

sight  of  his  home.  Now,  thought  he,  I  shall  be  able  to 
shake  off  these  desponding  thoughts.  As  the  vehicle  rolled 
along  the  street,  his  eye  fell  upon  a  group  of  his  former 


6  THE  RINGLEADER. 

companions.  They  were  moving  slowly,  as  if  towards  a 
given  point,  and  he  thought  their  countenances  wore  an 
unusual  expression  of  solemnity.  What  can  this  mean  ?  He 
stops  and  inquires.  *' 0,"  said  they,  "there  is  a  great 
revival  of  religion  here  ;  and  we  are  going  to  hear  the  Rev. 
Mr. preach."  The  intelligence  went  like  a  thunder- 
bolt to  his  heart.  It  seemed  as  if  an  angel,  as  in  the  case 
of  Balaam,  stood  with  a  drawn  sword  athwart  his  path. 
His  convictions  were  awfully  accumulated.  He  prostrated 
himself  before  God  and  cried  for  mercy.  His  heart  melted. 
He  was  humbled.  The  Saviour  lifted  him  up ;  and  soon 
he  began  to  speak  the  language  of  a  Christian.  See  him 
now,  reader,  a  new  man.  Like  Saul  of  Tarsus,  he  was 
smitten,  and  his  eyes  are  opened. 

Immediately  S C bethought  himself  of  college 

and  college-mates.  He  prepares  to  return.  Another  day 
finds  him  where  he  was  wont  to  be ;  but  0  how  changed. 
Surely,  as  he  approached  the  venerable  pile,  and  those 
almost  enchanting  grounds,  they  must  have  worn  a  richer 
hue  of  loveliness  to  his  reillumined  vision.  He  was  a  man 
to  feel  such  things ;  yes,  he  felt  them  intensely. 

There  was,  of  course,  great  joy  at  his  return  ;  but  it  was 
partially  subdued  by  the  unwonted  sweetness  of  his  expres- 
sive countenance.  The  image  of  Jesus  was  visible  there, 
and  gay  companions  looked  and  wondered.  He  shook  them 
cordially  by  the  hand,  and  told  them  he  had  a  story  to  tell 
them  that  evening,  and  they  must  meet  him  at  a  certain 
hour.  All  was  eager  expectation.  The  room  was  crowded. 
Good  and  bad  hurried  to  the  spot.  The  stillness  of  death 
pervaded  the  assembly.  Every  eye  was  intent,  and  every 
ear  open.  Methinks  I  can  see  him  rising  in  that  assembly 
with  almost  angelic  expression — an  expression  which  told 
us  what  was  coming.  But,  for  a  moment,  the  heart  was 
too  full ;    it  would  not  allow  the  speaker  utterance.     At 


THE  RINGLEADER.  7 

length  he  broke  the  silence  and  declared  the  whole  story 
from  the  beginning.  But  who  can  describe  it  ?  What  lan- 
guage !  It  seemed  borrowed  from  the  upper  world.  What 
a  countenance.  What  an  effect.  All  felt  that  night,  if 
they  never  felt  before  ;  and  tears  came  from  eyes  not  accus- 
tomed to  weep. 

From  this  time  forth,  the  leader  in  sports  became  a 
leader  in  the  Avork  of  his  Master.  This  noble  person — 
these  engaging  manners — this  chivalrous  spirit — this  brill- 
iant genius,   were  all  laid  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.     The 

conversion  of  S C was  a  means,  under  God,  of 

giving  new  impulse  to  the  revival.  Many,  when  they  saw 
his  case,  said,  "Surely,  this  is  the  finger  of  God."  Often 
have  I  seen  him  in  the  recitation-room,  surrounded  by  his 
fellow- students — with  just  space  enough  in  the  centre  for 
him  to  stand — addressing  them  in  language  pointed,  affect- 
ing, and  onginal,  pleading  with  streaming  eyes  that  they 
would  repent.  Once,  after  describing,  in  terms  most  pen- 
etrating, the  sufferings  of  Christ,  he  paused,  raised  both 
hands,  and  with  an  energy  peculiar  to  himself,  and  in  a  sub- 
dued tone,  exclaimed,  "  Can  you  look  at  all  this,  and  not  feel 
a  generous  indignation  at  your  sins?" 

Reader,  here  is  a  great  change.  This  man  was  once  far 
from  God,  as  far,  apparently,  as  he  could  get  from  him. 
Now  he  is  brought  nigh.  His  whole  course,  for  time  and 
for  eternity,  is  changed.  He  is  all  absorbed  in  urging  sin- 
ners to  repentance.  He  is  full  of  the  love  of  Christ.  He 
wants  every  one  to  drink  at  the  same  fountain,  and  to  rest 
on  the  same  foundation.  Does  not  the  question  occur  to 
you,  has  this  change  ever  passed  upon  my  soul  ?  This  we 
call  conversion — regeneration — the  new  birth,  without  which 
Christ  has  said  no  man  can  "see  the  kino-dom  of  God." 
Here  you  see  it  e.xemplified.  There  is  nothing  abstract 
here  ;  nothing  that  you  cannot  perfect! v  understand.      You 


8  THE  RINGLEADER. 

see  what  religion  did  for  this  man ;  and  you  may  hence 
infer  what  it  must  do  for  you,  or  you  are  lost.  Have  you 
ever  been  thus  exercised,  thus  humbled,  thus  changed  ? 
Have  you  turned,  as  he  did,  with  full  purpose  of  heart,  from 
the  world,  from  wicked  companions,  and  given  yourself  to 
God? 

Is  there  not  something  of  reality  in  religion  ?  Look  at 
this  case  and  say.  It  is  the  honest  truth  which  I  have 
related.  The  happy  individual  is  gone  to  eternity.  He 
died  young.  He  had  just  girded  himself  for  the  conflict. 
He  had  breathed  his  vows  to  God  in  the  ministry,  but  he 
was  destined  to  serve  his  Saviour  in  a  higher  sphere  of 
action.  He  went  to  his  reward  Avith  the  lano^uage  of  tri- 
umph  on  his  lips. 

But  how  is  it  with  you,  my  reader  ?  Have  you  the 
same  blessed  hope?  Can  you  look  forward  to  the  same 
triumphant  departure.  This  Tract  comes  to  tell  you,  in 
the  light  of  the  above  example,  what  you  must,  by  God's 
grace,  become,  or  be  for  ever  undone.  It  comes  to  ask  you 
if  you  are  not  a  sinner.  Is  not  thy  heart  polluted  ?  And 
can  such  a  heart  go  unchanged  to  heaven  ?  0  no  ;  nothing- 
unclean  can  ever  enter  there.  It  must,  in  a  Saviour's  blood, 
be  washed  from  its  pollution,  or  in  eternity  it  will  be  *'  filthy 

still."     Go  then,  at  once,  where  S C went,  into 

the  dust  before  God.  Fall  before  him  and  say,  "  Father,  I 
have  sinned."  Fly  to  the  cross,  for  God  will  be  reconciled 
nowhere  else.  He  will  meet  you  in  peace  on  Calvary,  but 
nowhere  else. 


PUBLISHED    BY  THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


]¥o.  356. 

THE  ACT  OE  FAITH. 

"  BELIEVE  ON   THE  LORD  JESUS   CHRIST,  AND  THOU  SHALT   BE 
SAVED."— Acts  16:  31. 

I  ONCE  saw  a  lad  on  the  roof  of  a  very  high  building, 
where  several  men  were  at  work.  He  was  gazing  about, 
with  apparent  unconcern,  when  suddenly  his  foot  slipped, 
and  he  fell.  In  falling  he  caught  by  a  rope,  and  hung  sus- 
pended in  mid- air,  where  he  could  get  neither  up  nor  down, 
and  where  it  was  evident  he  could  sustain  himself  but  a 
short  time.  He  perfectly  knew  his  situation,  and  expected 
that,  in  a  few  moments,  he  must  drop  upon  the  rocks  below, 
and  be  dashed  to  pieces. 

At  this  fearful  moment,  a  kind  and  powerful  man  rushed 
out  of  the  house,  and  standing  beneath  him  with  extended 
arms,  called  out,  "  Let  go  the  rope,  and  I  will  receive  you. 
I  can  do  it.  Let  go  the  rope,  and  I  promise  you  shall  es- 
cape unharmed." 

The  boy  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  quit  his  hold,  and 
dropped  easily  and  safely  into  the  arms  of  his  deliverer. 

Here,  thought  I,  is  an  illustration  of  faith.  Here  is  a 
simple  act  of  faith.  The  boy  was  sensible  of  his  danger. 
He  saw  his  deliverer,  and  heard  his  voice.  He  believed  in 
him,  trusted  to  him,  and,  letting  go  every  other  depend- 
ence and  hope,  dropped  into  his  arms. 

So  must  a  sinner  distinctly  apprehend  his  guilt  and  his 
awful  ex'posure  by  nature.  He  must  know  where  he  is,  and 
what  he  needs,  before  he  will  apply  to  Christ  for  help.  He 
must  see  distinctly,  that  he  is  a  sinner — a  transgressor  of 
God's  law,  and  a  rebel  against  his  throne.  He  must  see 
that  he  has  incurred  the  sentence  of  the  law ;  that  it  is  a 
just  sentence,  and  that  he  is  liable  every  moment  to  sink 
and  perish  under  it.  He  must  see  that,  so  far  as  his  own 
efforts  are  concerned,  there  is  no  possibility  of  escape.  He 
cannot  pay  the  debt  he  has  contracted,  nor  c;tn  he,  in  any 
way,  diminish  it  a  farthing.  He  can  make  no  amends,  no 
expiation,  for  his  past  sins.  The  long  catalogue  of  his  trans- 
gressions stands  arrayed  against  him  ;  and  for  aught  he 
can  do,  there  it  must  stand.  The  sentence  of  the  law  has 
been  passed  upon  him,  and  for  aught  he  can  do,  it  must  be 
P, — &ppedily  executed  ;  and  if  it  is  executed,  it  will  sink  him  for 
VOL.  X.  4 


2  THE  ACT  OF  FAITH. 

ever ;  for  this  sentence  is  no  other  than  eternal  death  : 
"  eternal  destruction  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and 
from  the  glory  of  his  power."  2  Thess.  1:9.  In  this  aw- 
fully exposed,  and,  so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  helpless  and 
hopeless  condition,  he  must  see  himself,  before  he  will  con- 
sent to  drop  into  the  arms  of  the  Saviour,  and  accept  de- 
liverance on  the  conditions  of  the  Gospel. 

And  he  must  see  more  than  this.  He  must  see  lulio  the 
Saviour  is,  and  what  he  has  done,  and  what  is  his  ability 
and  readiness  to  save.  Suppose  the  boy,  suspended  by  the 
rope,  had  seen  another  little  boy  like  himself  come  out  of 
the  house  and  stretch  his  weak  arms,  and  call  upon  him  to 
trust  to  him  for  deliverance.  He  would  have  cried  out  at 
once,  "  You  cannot  save  me.  Get  out  of  the  way,  or  I  shall 
fall  and  crush  myself  and  you."  Just  so  the  convicted  sin- 
ner feels,  when  invited  to  put  his  trust  in  a  man  like  him- 
self. "  A  mere  human  deliverer  1"  he  exclaims — "  do  you 
mean  to  mock  me  ?  What  can  such  a  deliverer  do  for  a 
wretch  like  me  ?  What  can  he  do  with  those  mountains  of 
guilt  which  are  pressing  upon  me,  and  with  that  deathless 
worm  which  is  gnawing  within  me  ?  What  can  he  do  with 
the  dreadful  sentence  of  the  law  which  hangs  over  me,  and 
with  the  devouring  flames  which  are  kindled  to  consume 
me  ?"  The  sinner  feels  now  that  he  needs  a  divine  Saviour 
— an  almighty  Saviour — one  who  is  able  to  "  save  to  the 
uttermost" — one  whose  *' blood  cleanseth  from  all  sin." 
He  feels  that  no  other  Saviour  can  meet  the  fearful  exi- 
gencies of  his  case,  or  can  ever  do  him  any  good.  And 
when  he  looks  into  the  Bible,  and  finds  that  just  such  a 
Saviour  is  provided  and  freely  offered  ;  when  he  finds  that 
he  is  a  holy  Saviour,  -svhose  word  is  truth — a  glorious  Sa- 
viour, altogether  deserving  his  confidence  and  love ;  when, 
with  the  eye  of  faith,  he  sees  this  Saviour  standing  beneath 
him,  and  extending  his  mighty  arms  to  receive  him,  and 
calling  out  to  him  to  let  go  all  his  false  dependencies  and 
hopes,  and  drop  at  once  into  his  faithful  hands  :  what  should 
prevent  him  from  doing  it — from  simply  putting  forth  the  act 
of  faith,  and  falling  into  the  kind  and  gracious  arms  of  his  De- 
liverer ?  He  obviously  has  all  the  knowledge  and  conviction 
that  are  necessary,  and  he  has  only  now  to  believe  in  Christ, 
to  trust  to  him,  to  fall  into  his  embrace,  and  live  for  ever. 

But  suppose  a  man.  while  hanging,  as  it  were,,  over  the 


THE  ACT  OF  FAITH. 


jaws  of  death,  begins  to  doubt  the  ability  or  the  readiness  of 
Christ  to  save.  Suppose  he  begins  to  reason  with  himself, 
*'  My  soul  is  of  great  vahie,  and  the  difficulties  in  the  way 
of  my  salvation  are  great.  How  do  I  know  that  this  Jesus 
can  save  me — that  he  can  cleanse  such  a  polluted  heart, 
and  rescue  such  a  vile  and  guilty  sinner  ?  Or  if  he  can,  how 
do  I  know  that  he  will  ?  He  may  not  be  sincere  in  his  of- 
fers. It  may  be,  he  only  intends  to  trifle  with  my  misery." 
Would  not  this  be  a  high  affront  and  indignity  offered  to 
the  benevolent  Saviour?  Would  it  not  provoke  him  soon 
to  withdraw  his  gracious  hand,  and  say,  "Well,  sinner,  if 
you  are  determined  not  to  be  saved,  then  you  must  perish. 
If  you  will  not  trust  in  me,  I  can  do  nothing  for  you.  You 
might  have  been  delivered,  if  you  had  hearkened  to  my 
voice  ;  but  now  you  must  be  cast  off  for  ever." 

Or  suppose  that,  Avhile  the  Saviour  is  crying,  "Look 
unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved,"  you  should  say,  "/  am  not 
worthy  to  come  to  Christ  as  I  now  am.  I  must  Avait  till  I 
have  done  somethinof  to  recommend  me  to  his   regfards." 

CD  O 

And  suppose  the  Saviour  should  continue  crying,  "  Come 
just  as  you  are ;  come  in  all  your  vileness,  and  be  cleansed 
in  the  fountain  of  my  blood ;"  and  you  still  hold  back,  and 
persist  in  the  struggle,  and  hang  upon  the  vain  excuse ; 
might  he  not  be  expected  soon  to  withdraw,  and  leave  an 
unbelieving  rebel  to  perish  ? 

Or  suppose  you  should  say,  ''How  came  / to  be  a  sinner ? 
Why  did  Cod  permit  me  to  sin,  or  permit  sin  to  come  into 
the  world?"  Or,  "How  can  I  believe  of  myself?  Is  not 
faith  the  gift  of  God  ?  and  until  the  gift  is  bestowed,  what 
can  I  do  but  patiently  to  wait  for  it?"  Or  suppose  you  fly 
to  the  other  extreme,  and  say,  "  I  can  believe  and  secure 
my  salvation  whenever  I  please  ;  I  need  be  in  no  haste  about 
it.  I  will  put  off  the  work  till  a  more  convenient  season." 
Or  suppose  you  allege  that  you  are  not  yet  enough  con- 
victed ;  have  not  had  enough  feeling,  enough  distress,  to 
render  it  possible  for  you  to  come  to  Christ.  Suppose  you 
speculate  and  trifle,  and  think  to  throw  off  present  obliga- 
tion in  either  of  these  ways ;  what  must  be  the  feelings  of 
the  Saviour  in  regard  to  you  ?  Here  the  poor  rebel  hangs 
over  the  pit  of  destruction,  ready  to  drop  at  once  into  the 
burning  lake  ;  and  here  the  Saviour  stands  in  all  his  fulness, 
oftering  to  rescue  him,  and  pleading  with  him  to  submit,  and 


4  THE  ACT  OF  FAITH. 

live !    What  more  likely  method  could  he  take  to  seal  and 
secure  his  own  destruction  ? 

Suppose  the  boy  suspended  by  the  rope,  instead  of  drop- 
ping into  the  arms  extended  to  receive  him,  had  insisted  on 
tirst  knowing  how  he  came  to  fall — "  How  came  my  foot 
to  slip,  and  1  to  make  this  fearful  plunge  ?  Why  did  not  the 
men  on  the  roof  take  better  care  of  me  ?"  Or  suppose  he 
had  said,  "  I  have  no  power  to  let  go  the  rope.  My  hands 
are  fast  clenched  upon  it,  and  how  can  I  open  them  of  my- 
self ?"  Or,  "  I  can  let  go  and  be  delivered  at  any  time,  and 
I  choose  to  hang  a  little  longer.  Perhaps  I  have  not  yet 
had  enough  distress."  Would  he  not  be  evidently  beside 
himself?  And  yet  such  is  the  conduct  of  the  great  mass  of 
sinners,  and  of  serious,  awakened  sinners,  under  the  Gospel. 

Reader,  what  is  your  state  ?  Are  you  yet  in  your  sins  ? 
Do  you  see  your  dreadful  guilt  and  exposure  ?  And  do  you 
anxiously  seek  and  inquire  for  deliverance  ?  If  not,  it  will 
be  in  vain  to  direct  you.  You  will  not  follow  any  direc- 
tions, if  given.  But  if  you  see  yourself  to  be  all  guilty  and 
exposed  ;  if  your  feelings  prompt  you  to  inquire,  with  the 
trembling  jailer,  "  Sirs,  what  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  then 
it  is  easy  and  pleasant  to  direct  you,  to  point  you  to  the 
compassionate  Saviour.  There  he  stands,  with  outstretch- 
ed arms,  waiting  to  intercept  your  fall.  Hear  him  calling. 
Hear  him  inviting.  "  Come,  come,  for  all  things  are  now 
ready."  Sinner,  yield  to  him.  Yield  at  once.  Do  not  doubt 
his  ability  to  save  you.  Do  not  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his 
offers.  Do  not  wait  to  make  yourself  better.  Do  not  hesi- 
tate or  speculate  a  moment.  Remember,  that  the  question 
before  you  is  one  of  riffht  and  wrong ;  and  it  is  also  one  of 
salvation  or  destruction.  You  cannot  delay  without  adding 
to  your  sin,  and  hazarding  the  interests  of  your  immortal 
soul.  Nov),  then,  is  your  time.  Now,  while  you  are  read- 
ing and  pondering  these  lines — now,  while  the  pressure  of  ob- 
ligation is  strong  upon  you,  let  go,  at  once,  every  other  depend- 
ence, and  fall  into  the  arms  of  your  all-powerful  Deliverer. 

"Here,  Lord,  I  give  myself  away; 

'Tis  all  that  I  can  do." 
"  Love  so  amazing,  so  divine, 

Demands  my  soul,  my  life,  my  all." 

PUBLISHED   BY  THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


IVo.  337. 

WHAT    IS    IT 

TO  BELIEVE  ON  CHRIST? 


Reader,  did  you  ever  ask  this  question  ?  Is  it  your  sin- 
cere and  earnest  wish  to  have  it  answered  ?  If  so,  tliis 
Tract  is  intended  for  you.  May  God  make  it  a  blessing  to 
your  soul. 

I  will  suppose  that  you  have  at  some  time  felt  alarmed 
in  view  of  your  sins,  and  inquired  in  your  thoughts,  if  not 
in  words,  "What  must  I  do  to  be  saved?"  You  have  the 
same  answer  that  Paul  gave  to  the  jailer,  "Believe  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ."  Still  you  hesitate.  You  ask  what 
this  language  means.  You  desire  to  know  lohat  it  is  to 
believe  on  Christ. 

Your  wish,  fellow-sinner,  is  a  very  reasonable  one.  The 
wonder  and  the  sin  is,  that  you  have  not  asked  such  a  ques- 
tion before.  It  is  a  most  important  and  solemn  question. 
It  has  much  to  do  with  your  salvation ;  for  the  Bible  de- 
clares, "  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  hath  everlasting 
life ;  and  he  that  believeth  not  the  Son,  shall  not  see  life ; 
hut  the  wrath  of  God  ahideth  on  him^ 

**  What  is  it  to  believe  on  Christ  V    It  is. 

To  FEEL  YOUR  NEED  OF  HiM  ; 

To  BELIEVE  THAT  He  IS  ABLE  AND  WILLING  TO  SAVE  YOU, 

AND  TO  SAVE  YOU  NOW ;  and 

To    CAST    YOURSELF    UNRESERVEDLY    ON    HIS    MERCY,    and 

TRUST  IN  Him  alone  for  salvation. 

To  feel  your  need  of  him.  Till  you  do  this,  you  will  never 
seek  him  earnestly,  or  trust  him  wholly.  You  do  not  send 
for  a  physician  till  you  feel  yourself  to  be  ill.  It  was  only 
when  Peter  found  he  was  beginning  to  sink,  that  he  cried, 
"Lord,  save  me."  So  the  sinner  never  goes  to  Christ  in  a 
right  manner,  till  he  feels  himself  to  be  a  lost,  wretched 
being.     It  is  not  enough  to  know  this  :  you  must  feel  it. 

Do  you  say  you  cannot  ?  0,  then,  hoiv  lost,  hoiu  wretch- 
ed you  must  be !  Your  very  language  ought  to  fill  you 
with  shame  and  fear.     Whose  fault  is  it  that  you  do  not 

VOL.  X.  4* 


2  WHAT  IS  IT  TO  BELIEVE  ON  CHRIST  t 

feel  ?  How  long  need  it  be  before  you  feel  ?  You  can  feel 
alarm  when  a  murderer  holds  you  in  his  grasp  ;  you  can 
feel  sorrow  when  a  friend  is  dying  in  agony  before  your 
eyes ;  and  can  you  feel  no  sorrow  when  you  think  of  a  suf- 
feringf  Saviour,  whose  love  vou  have  abused  ?  no  alarm, 
when  you  call  to  mind  that  fearful  judgment  to  which  you 
are  hastening  ?  Will  you  dare  tell  your  Judge,  at  the  great 
day,  that  you  could  not  feel  your  need  of  a  Saviour  ? 

But  you  say,  "  I  do  feel,  at  least  in  some  degree,  that 
I  am  a  poor,  guilty,  undone  sinner ;  but  this  will  not  save 
me."  No,  it  will  not.  Thousands  have  felt  this  and  per- 
ished.    You  must  also, 

Believe  that  Christ  is  able  and  loilling  to  save  you,  and 
to  save  you  now.  He  is  able,  for  he  is  almighty.  You  are 
a  great  sinner,  but  Christ  is  a  great  Saviour.  Satan  has 
been  trying  to  persuade  you  that  Christ  is  not  able  to  save 
so  great  a  sinner  as  you  are.  It  is  false.  He  is  able,  and 
unless  you  believe  this  in  all  its  glorious  extent,  you  will  no 
more  be  willing  to  trust  him,  than  a  man  on  the  roof  of  a 
burning  house  will  step  upon  a  weak  ladder  which  he  knows 
will  give  way  beneath  him. 

You  must  believe  that  he  is  willing.  He  has  in  many 
ways  shown  himself  to  be  willing.  If  you  doubt  it,  you 
disbelieve  and  offend  him.  Does  it  please  him,  think  you, 
when  he  utters  this  kind  welcome,  "  Whosoever  cometh 
unto  me,  /  ivill  in  nowise  cast  out,''  to  hear  you  reply,  ''0 
Lord,  I  cannot  think  that  thou  wouldst  receive  such  an  one 
as  me,  if  I  should  come?"  Yet  you  do  in  effect  say  this, 
every  moment  you  cherish  the  feeling  that  you  are  too  sin- 
ful to  hope  for  pardon.  You  mistake  this  for  humility  ;  but 
it  is  unbelief,  and  sin. 

You  must  believe  that  he  is  willing  noio.  Perhaps  you 
have  thought  he  would  be  willing,  after  a  few  more  days  or 
weeks  spent  in  praying,  and  weeping,  and  growing  better. 
Be  assured  your  worst  enemy  wants  no  more  than  that  you 
should  continue  to  think  so.  You  are  growing  no  better. 
You  are  doing  nothing  to  gain  Christ's  favor  while  you 
refuse  to  yield  to  his  invitations.  Until  you  believe  that 
he  is  able  and  willing  to  save  you,  and  to  do  it  now,  you 
never  will  be  saVed.  The  great  enemy  of  your  soul  does 
not  wish  you  to  set  a  time  far  distant  when  you  can  go  to 
Christ,  and  when  he  will  be  willing  to  receive  you.     If  you 


WHAT  IS  IT  TO  BELIEVE  ON  CHRIST  ?  3 

will  continue  to  place  that  time  at  the  distance  of  a  week, 
or  an  hour,  or  a  minute,  his  object  is  gained,  and  your  soul  ie 
lost. 

But  you  ask,  "  Does  not  a  sinner,  at  the  moment  of  his 
actual  submission  to  the  Saviour,  feel  more  fit  to  be  par- 
doned ;  and  is  not  Christ  more  willing  to  pardon  him  than 
ever  before?"  No,  dear  friend,  no  !  He  was  less  fit  to  be 
pardoned,  for  his  sins  had  been  increasing  every  moment 
up  to  that  very  time ;  and  Christ  was  no  more  willing  to 
pardon  him  than  he  had  always  been.  Every  Christian  will 
tell  you  that,  so  far  as  Christ's  willingness  was  concerned, 
he  might  as  well  have  found  peace  in  him  months  or  years 
sooner,  as  when  he  hopes  he  was  pardoned.  The  next 
thing  required  of  you  is. 

To  cast  yourself  unreservedly  upon  his  mercy,  and  trust 
in  him  alone  for  salvation.  This  implies  that  3^ou  renounce 
all  expectations  of  saving  yourself,  or  of  being  saved  any 
other  way  than  through  the  righteousness  and  redemption 
of  Christ.  Did  you  ever  feel  as  if  you  had  done  all  you 
could  ?  Have  you  tried  to  think  of  something  more  to  do 
to  obtain  hope  and  forgiveness  ?  You  have  done  too  much 
in  this  way  already. 

Just  stop  doing,  and  begin  to  trust  Christ  to  do  all,  and 
you  are  safe.  A  man  is  rowing  a  boat  on  a  river  just  above 
a  dreadful  cataract.  The  current  begins  to  bear  him  down- 
ward, the  spectators  on  the  banks  give  him  up  for  lost, 
**  He  is  gone,"  they  all  exclaim.  But  in  another  moment  a 
rope  is  thrown  towards  the  wretched  man,  it  strikes  the 
water  near  the  boat ;  noio  how  does  the  case  stand  ?  Do  all 
the  spectators  call  upon  him  to  roiv,  to  row  stronger,  to  try 
harder  to  reach  the  shore,  when  with  every  stroke  of  his 
arm  the  boat  is  evidently  floating  towards  the  falls  ?  0  no, 
the  eager  and  united  cry  is,  "  Dro^j  your  oars!  Give  ujy  your 
desperate  attempt!  take  hold  of  the  rope  !"  But  he 
chooses  to  row,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  disappears  and 
perishes.  All  his  hope  lay,  not  in  rowing,  but  in  ceasing  to 
row ;  for  while  he  was  rowing  he  could  not  grasp  the  rope. 
So  all  the  sinner's  hope  lies  not  in  struggling  to  save  him- 
self, but  in  ceasing  to  struggle  ;  for  while  he  expects  soon 
to  accomplish  the  work  of  salvation,  he  will  not  look  to 
Christ  to  do  it  for  him.  It  is  not  doing  but  yielding,  that 
is  required. 


4  WHAT  IS  IT  TO  BELIEVE  ON  CHRIST  1 

But  you  say,  "  If  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  cease  from  at- 
tempting to  save  myself,  and  to  be  willing  that  Christ  should 
do  the  work  of  my  salvation,  why  do  you  urge  me  to  become 
a  Christian,  or  to  do  an7/  thing  ?  Why  not  let  me  sit  still, 
and  wait  till  Christ  shall  come  and  pardon  me  ?"  And  what 
if  the  man  in  the  boat  had  dropped  his  oar,  and  then  folded 
his  hands  and  waited  for  the  rope  to  save  hira  ?  He  might 
as  well  have  died  rowing  as  sitting  still,  and  would  as  cer- 
tainly have  died  in  the  latter  case  as  in  the  former.  But 
he  must  grasp  the  rope.  So  the  sinner  must  lay  hold  upon 
the  cross  ;  not  by  waiting  till  he  is  better,  but  by  first  con- 
cluding that  he  shall  never  be  any  better  in  the  way  he  is 
going  on,  and  then  looking  to  Christ.  As  he  perceives  the 
ground  sinking  beneath  him,  and  feels  how  lost  and  wretched 
he  is,  filled  with  mingled  despair  and  hope — despair  in 
himself,  and  hope  in  the  power  and  mercy  of  Christ — he 
says, 

"  I  stand  upon  a  mountain's  edge, 
O  save  me,  lest  I  fall !" 

His  prayer  is  heard — the  heart  of  the  compassionate  Saviour 
is  ready  to  welcome  him — the  arms  of  mercy  are  stretched 
out  to  receive  him — a  word  of  kind  welcome  reaches  his  ear, 
"  Son,  he  of  good  cheer  ;  thy  sins  he  forgiven  thee.^'  He  be- 
lieves that  word — he  trusts  that  heart — he  falls  into  those 
arms,  and  he  is  safe. 

Now,  dear  reader,  your  question  is  answered.  Is  not 
the  answer  true  ?  Is  it  not  plain  ?  Do  you  not  see  your 
mistake  ?  Since  all  things  are  now  ready,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit  not  quite  grieved  away  from  your  heart  by  your 
delay,  will  you  wait  any  longer  ? 

Does  your  heart  now  say,  "  Lord,  I  believe  :  help  thou 
mine  unbelief?"  Will  you  take  the  Saviour  at  his  word? 
Are  you  willing  to  trust  him  to  do  the  whole  work  of  your 
salvation  ? 

If  so,  lay  down  this  Tract ;  prostrate  yourself  before 
this  waiting,  insulted,  and  still  compassionate  Redeemer ; 
tell  him  all  your  heart,  and  he  will  pardon,  accept,  and  save 

you. 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIErr. 


I¥o.  358. 

THE 


WONDERFUL  ESCAPE. 


In  the  town  where  I  reside  were  twelve  young  men. 
who  were  accustomed,  early  in  life,  to  meet  together  for 
indulgence  in  drinking  and  all  manner  of  excess.  In  the 
course  of  time,  some  of  them  engaged  in  business  ;  but  their 
habits  of  intemperance  were  so  entwined  with  their  very 
existence,  that  they  became  bankrupts  or  insolvents.  Eight 
of  them  died  under  the  age  of  forty,  without  a  hope  beyond 
the  grave,  victims  of  intemperance.  Three  others  are  still 
living  in  the  most  abject  poverty.  Two  of  these  had  for- 
merly moved  in  very  respectable  circles,  but  now  they  are 
in  the  most  miserable  state  of  poverty  and  disgrace. 

One  more,  the  last  of  the  twelve,  the  worst  of  all,  re- 
mains to  be  accounted  for.  He  was  a  sort  of  ringleader ; 
and  being  in  the  wine  and  spirit  trade,  his  business  was,  to 
take  the  head  of  the  table  at  convivial  parties,  and  sit  up 
whole  nights,  drinking  and  inducing  others  to  do  the  same, 
never  going  to  bed  sober.  He  was  an  infidel,  a  blasphemer, 
a  disciple  of  Tom  Paine,  both  in  principle  and  practice,  yet 
he  was  a  good-natured  man,  and  would  do  anybody  a  kind- 
ness. At  length  he  left  the  town,  and  went  to  reside  at  a 
distance,  where,  for  a  time,  he  refrained  from  drinking,  was 
married,  and  every  thing  seemed  prosperous  around  him ; 
but  instead  of  being  thankful  to  God  for  his  mercy,  and 
watching  against  his  besetting  sin,  he  gave  way  to  his  old 
propensity,  and  brought  misery  on  his  family  and  friends. 

One  dark  night,  being  in  the  neighborhood  of  Dudley, 
he  had  been  drinking  to  excess,  wandered  out  of  the  house, 
and  staggered  among  the  coalpits,  exposed  to  fall  into  them, 
and  be  lost.  He  proceeded  on  till  he  fell,  and  rolled  down 
the  bank  of  the  canal ;  but  God,  who  is  rich  in  mercy,  had 
caused  a  stone  to  lie  directly  in  his  path,  and  the  poor 
drunkard  was  stopped  from  rolling  over  into  the  water, 
where,  by  one  turn  more,  he  would  have  sunk  into  eternal 
ruin.     His  senses  returned  for  a  moment ;  he  saw  that  if  he 


2  ,  THE  WONDERFUL  ESCAPE. 

attempted  to  stand,  he  Avould  fall  headlong  into  the  canal, 
and  crawled  back  again  into  the  road.  But  this  miraculous 
preservation  had  no  effect  upon  him  ;  he  merely  called  it  a 
lucky  escape. 

Once,  after  having  indulged  in  many  da^'s  of  intemper- 
ance, being  come  a  little  to  his  senses,  he  began  to  reason 
with  himself  upon  his  folly — surrounded  with  blessings,  yet 
abusing  the  whole — and  in  an  angry,  passionate  manner,  he 
muttered,  "  0,  it's  no  use  for  me  to  repent ;  my  sins  are  too 
great  to  be  forgiven."  He  had  no  sooner  uttered  these 
words,  than  a  voice  seemed  to  say,  with  strong  emphasis, 
**  If  thou  wilt  forsake  thy  sins,  they  shall  be  forgiven."  The 
poor  man  started  at  what  he  beheved  to  be  real  sound,  and 
turned  round,  but  saw  no  one,  and  said  to  himself,  "  I  have 
been  drinking  till  I  am  going  mad."  He  stood  paralyzed, 
not  knowing  what  to  think,  till  relieved  by  a  flood  of  tears, 
and  then  exclaimed,  *'  Surely,  this  is  the  voice  of  mercy, 
once  more  calling  me  to  repentance."  He  fell  on  his  knees, 
and  half  suffocated  by  his  feelings,  cried  out,  "God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner."  The  poor  wretch  was  broken- 
hearted ;  and  now  his  besetting  sin  appeared  more  horrible 
than  ever ;  but  it  must  be  conquered,  or  he  must  perish. 
Then  commenced  a  contest  more  terrible  than  that  of  con- 
flicting armies  ;  the  soul  was  at  stake  ;  an  impetuous  torrent 
was  to  be  turned  into  an  opposite  course.  He  now  began 
to  search  the  Bible,  which  he  had  once  despised.  Here  he 
saw  that  crimson  and  scarlet  sins  could  be  blotted  out,  and 
made  white  as  snow ;  that  the  grace  of  God  was  sufficient. 
He  refrained  from  intemperance,  commenced  family  prayer, 
and  hope  again  revived ;  but  his  deadly  foe  still  pursued 
him,  and  he  was  again  overcome. 

Now  his  disgrace  and  sinfulness  appeared  worse  than 
ever,  and  with  melancholy  feeling  he  cried  out,  in  anguish 
of  spirit,  that  he  was  doomed  to  eternal  misery,  and  it  was 
useless  to  try  to  avert  his  fate.  His  cruel  enemy  took  this 
opportunity  to  suggest  to  his  mind  that  he  had  so  disgraced 
himself,  that  it  would  be  better  to  get  rid  of  his  life  at  once — 
frequently  the  end  of  drunkards.  The  razor  was  in  his 
hand  ;  but  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  interposed,  and  the  weap- 
on fell  to  the  ground.  Still  his  enemy  pursued  him,  and 
seemed  to  have  new  power  over  his  sin  of  intemperance. 
He  would  sometimes  refrain  for  days  and  weeks,  and  then 


THE  WONDERFUL  ESCAPE.  3 

again  he  was  as  bad  as  ever.  Hope  seemed  now  to  be  lost ; 
especially  one  day,  when,  after  having  been  brought  into 
great  weakness  through  intemperance,  death  appeared  to 
be  very  near,  and  his  awful  state  more  terrific  than  ever. 
Not  a  moment  was  to  be  lost ;  he  cast  himself  once  more  at 
the  footstool  of  his  long-insulted  Creator,  and  with  an  in- 
tensity of  agony  cried  out,  "  What  profit  is  there  in  my 
blood  when  I  go  down  to  the  pit  ?  Shall  the  dust  praise 
thee  ?  Shall  it  declare  thy  truth  ?  Hear,  O  Lord,  and 
have  mercy  upon  me ;  Lord,  be  thou  my  helper."  He 
sunk  down  exhausted  ;  he  could  say  no  more.  That  prayer 
was  heard ;  and  a  voice  from  heaven  seemed  to  reply,  "  I 
will  help  thee ;  I  have  seen  thy  struggles,  and  I  will  now 
say  to  thine  enemy,  '  Hitherto  thou  hast  come — but  no 
further.'  " 

A  physician  was  consulted  as  to  the  probability  or  pos- 
sibility of  medicine  being  rendered  effectual  to  stop  the  dis- 
position to  intemperance.  The  poor  man  would  have  suf- 
fered the  amputation  of  all  his  limbs,  could  so  severe  a 
method  have  freed  him  from  his  deadly  habit,  which,  like  a 
vulture,  had  fastened  upon  his  very  vitals.  Eagerly  did  he 
begin  to  take  the  simple  medicine  prescribed,  (a  prepara- 
tion of  steel,)  with  earnest  pra^^er  to  God  for  help  in  this 
last  struggle  for  life ;  but  faith  and  prayer  proved  the  best 
of  remedies  ;  he  persevered,  and  conquered  ;  and  be  it  said 
to  the  honor  and  glory  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty,  who 
sent  his  angel  to  whisper  in  the  poor  man's  ear,  "  I  will 
help  thee,"  that  from  the  latter  end  of  September,  1816, 
to  the  present  hour,  nearly  twenty  years,  not  so  much  as 
a  spoonful  of  spirituous  liquor,  or  wine  of  any  description, 
has  ever  passed  the  surface  of  that  mans  tongue. 

The  above  account  of  his  own  experience,  was  given  by 
Mr.  Hall,  a  merchant  of  Maidstone,  Kent,  at  the  anniver- 
sary of  the  British  and  Foreign  Temperance  Society,  May, 
1836. 

Mr.  Hall  stated,  in  conclusion,  that  he  had  since  been 
aiminor  to  be  useful  to  his  fellow-men,  and  had  written  a 
Tract,  the  object  of  which  was,  to  call  drunkards,  and  all 
sinners  to  repentance,  of  which  more  than  one  hundred 
thousand  copies  had  been  circulated.    See  Tract,  No.  349. 


4  THE  WONDERFUL  ESCAPE. 

Has  the  reader  a  relative,  friend,  or  neighbor,  who  drinks 
his  daily  drams,  and  is  plunging  into  that  awful  gulf  which 
yearly  swallows  up  its  thousands  of  victims  ?  Let  the  above 
history  suggest  a  duty,  and  encourage  to  its  performance. 
This  is  not  a  solitary  instance  of  victory  obtained  over  pow- 
erful and  raging  appetite.  There  is  evidence  that  tens  of 
thousands  of  persons  in  the  United  States,  who  were  once 
intemperate,  have  become  sober,  useful  citizens ;  and  not  a 
few  of  them  ardent  Christians.  And  this  has  been  effected, 
not  by  despising  and  reproaching  them,  but  chiefly  through 
the  divine  blessing  on  the  kind  personal  injiuence  of  friends, 
excited  by  no  other  motive  than  Christian  benevolence  and 
love  of  their  fellow-men.  The  self-despair  of  the  intem- 
perate man  arises,  in  a  great  measure,  from  the  conviction, 
that  he  is  an  outcast  from  public  respect  and  sympathy. 
He  is  moved  by  the  language  of  kindness ;  and  if  suitably 
warned  of  his  danger,  and  pointed  to  the  way  of  escape, 
may  be  saved  from  ruin.  Persuade  him  to  refrain,  till  rea- 
son resumes  her  sway,  and  the  burning  desire  for  stimulus 
has  subsided.  A  few  months  will  generally  effect  this 
great  change.  In  his  sober  hours  he  often  weeps  over  his 
folly,  his  ear  is  open  to  the  voice  of  friendship,  and  he  will 
yield  to  kind  remonstrance — perhaps  consent  to  place  him- 
self under  the  care  of  a  temperate  physician.  Go  to  him 
when  alone,  with  tenderness  and  love.  Offer  him  such 
aid  as  is  needed  by  himself  or  family.  Give  him  the  above 
history,  in  view  of  which  none  need  despair.  Bring  him, 
if  possible,  to  the  house  of  God.  Go  to  him  again  and 
again,  till  you  obtain  his  pledge  to  abstinence.  Follow 
him  with  kindness.  Support  him  in  the  struggle.  In- 
duce him  utterly  to  abandon  all  that  can  intoxicate,  as  his 
only  safety;  wholly  to  refrain  from  the  place  and  the  com- 
pany where  intoxicating  drinks  are  used  ;  and  in  dependence 
on  Christ,  humbly  to  offer  the  prayer,  "  Hold  thou  me  up, 
and  I  shall  be  safe."  Interest  yourself  in  his  welfare,  and 
persevere  till  you  gain  the  glorious  triumph — the  conquest 
of  an  immortal  mind,  that  may  diffuse  blessings  on  every 
side  in  this  life,  and  be  a  star  in  the  Redeemer's  crown  of 
glory  for  ever. 


PUBLISHED  BY   THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


I¥o.  359. 

THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD. 


BY  REV.  WILLIAM  S.  PLIJMER,  D.  D. 


So  long  as  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  continues  on  earth, 
we  may  expect  wonders.  Especially  may  most  glorious 
displays  of  divine  grace  be  looked  for,  as  the  day  draws  nigh 
when  "  the  light  of  the  moon  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  sun, 
and  the  light  of  the  sun  sevenfold,  as  the  light  of  seven 
days."     Then  "  the  child  shall  die  a  hundred  years  old." 

Ann  Eliza,  the  eldest  child  of  Charles  B.  and  Ann  M. 
Williams,  was  born  January  16,  1820,  at  Meadsville,  Hali- 
fax county,  Virginia.  She  had  three  sisters  and  one  brother, 
besides  a  sister  and  brother  who  died  m  infancy.  Her 
mother,  who  professed  religion  when  she  was  Miss  Hackley, 
four  days  after  the  birth  of  Ann  Eliza,  thus  wrote  : 

"  On  the  16th  of  this  month,  I  was  made  the  happy 
mother  of  a  promising  daughter.  To  thee,  0  Lord,  I  desire 
in  faith  to  dedicate  her.  And  I  implore  the  sanctifying  in- 
fluence of  thy  Spirit  to  enable  me  to  bring  her  up  in  the 
nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord — to  rear  her  up  as  an 
immortal  being,  destined  to  eternal  misery  or  eternal  bless- 
edness. 0  wash  her,  and  grant  that  as  she  ripens  in  years, 
she  may  grow  in  grace." 

On  the  16th  January,  1821,  her  mother  again  wrote,  "I 
gave  my  dear  Ann  Eliza  to  God  before  she  was  born.  I 
have  done  it  since.  On  this  her  birthday  I  desire,  0  Lord, 
to  renew  the  offering  ;  and  I  beseech  thee  to  cleanse  her  soul 
in  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  adopt  her  into  thy  family.  If  by 
thy  will  she  should  long  sojourn  in  this  barren  wilderness, 
guide  her,  and  lead  her  early  to  seek  thy  face.  Keep  her  in 
thy  way  without  weariness  or  fainting,  and  enable  me  to 
fulfil  my  solemn  obligations  as  a  Christian  parent." 

At  an  early  period,  Ann  Eliza  was  found  to  have  an 
irascible,  obstinate,  and  ungovernable  temper,  combined  with 
exquisite  nervous   sensibility.       Her  mind  was   sound  and 

VOL.  X.  5  ' 


2  THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD. 

sprightly,  though  the  incidents  of  her  very  early  life  were 
not  remarkable.  In  some  respects,  elements  of  a  more  mi- 
promising  kind  seldom  enter  into  character.  Yet,  though 
self-willed,  there  was  a  sort  of  independence  which  was  ca- 
pable of  being  turned  to  good  account.  It  is  also  a  remark- 
able fact,  that  she  was  never  detected  in  any  falsehood.  She 
was  naturally  very  timid.  She  was  not  naturally  generous, 
or  amiable,  or  confiding.  Yet,  for  one  of  her  age,  she  always 
commanded  respect. 

When  Ann  Eliza  was  about  seven  years  of  age,  she  was 
invited  to  a  dancing-party  of  little  children,  and  was  anxious 
to  attend  ;  and  her  mother  saying  she  was  too  young,  she 
replied,  that  some  others  were  going  who  were  younger  than 
she.  Her  mother  then  took  her  in  her  arms,  and  said,  "  My 
child,  your  father  and  I  have  both  often  and  solemnly  given 
you  to  God,  and  promised  to  train  you  up  for  him.  We  trust 
we  are  Christians.  We  seek  your  eternal  happiness.  The 
parents  of  the  little  girls  you  have  named  do  not  profess  to 
think  much  about  another  world.  We  cannot,  without  sin- 
ning against  God,  permit  y(ju  to  go  to  the  ball." 

These  things  seemed  to  satisfy  her  conscience,  and  re- 
tained it  on  the  side  of  her  parents.  Yet  after  her  conver- 
sion, she  confessed,  "  I  was  wicked  enough  to  wish  that  my 
parents  were  not  Christians,  that  I  might  partake  of  the 
gayeties  in  which  others  engage." 

By  the  blessing  of  God  on  a  course  of  mild  and  firm 
training,  her  parents  were  pleased  to  find  that  her  judgment 
and  principles  were,  to  some  extent,  on  the  side  of  duty,  and 
that  she  had  some  correct  geiteral  views  of  the  truth  of  the 
Bible,  and  of  the  reality  and  importance  of  religion.  Yet 
she  gave  no  evidence  of  special  seriousness  or  tenderness 
until  she  was  more  than  eight  years  old. 

In  her  ninth  year,  her  heavenly  Father  began  that  course 
of  gracious  discipline  which  has  clothed  her  character  with 
such  interest,  and  rendered  her  history  worthy  of  a  place  in 
the  annals  of  redemption.  In  the  winter  of  1828,  her  par- 
ents removed  to  Lynchburgh.  Here,  in  May,  1829,  she  rup- 
tured a  bloodvessel  in  the  lungs.      This  was  succeeded  by  a 


THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD.  3 

copious  bleeding.  For  some  months  she  remained  appar- 
ently thoughtless  respecting  eternal  things.  Late  in  the 
autumn  of  this  year,  she  accompanied  her  grandmother  on 
a  visit  to  a  maternal  aunt  in  the  Qounty  of  Orange.  Here, 
in  March,  1830,  she  had  a  second  attack  of  bleeding  at  the 
lungs,  which  was  attended  with  immediate  danger,  and 
which  cut  off  nearly  all  hope  of  ever  regaining  jtermanent 
health.  During  this  sickness,  her  alarm  was  agonizing. 
Death  was  to  her  the  king  of  terrors.  Courage  in  facmg 
such  trials  was  no  part  of  her  natural  character.  It  soon 
became  manifest,  that  she  was  deeply  impressed  with  a  sense 
of  her  guilt,  and  misery,  and  danger  as  a  sinner.  She  was 
found  in  retirement,  bathed  in  tears,  nor  did  she  attempt 
to  conceal  the  cause  of  her  weeping.  She  confessed  it  to 
be  her  smfulness.  Her  sins  of  every  kind,  and  above  all, 
the  deep  pollution  of  her  heart,  filled  her  with  grief  and 
self-abasement  before  God.  She  said,  "  How  could  I  be  so 
wicked,  and  sin  against  a  God  so  good  and  so  holy," 

She  now  felt  the  unspeakable  value  of  the  friendship,  and 
counsel,  and  prayers  of  her  excellent  grandmother.  At  one 
time,  her  views  of  sin  being  very  clear,  and  her  convictions 
very  pmigent,  she  said,  "  Pray  with  me  ;  ask  God  to  give  me 
a  new  heart,  and  to  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me,  and  to 
prepare  me  for  death,  if  he  intends  to  take  me  now,  or  for 
living  to  his  glory,  if  he  shall  be  pleased  to  spare  me." 

It  should  be  observed,  that  from  this  time  forward  her 
intellect  seemed  to  have  a  greatly  increased  vigor,  and  her 
language  Avas  generally  very  appropriate.  The  absence  of 
childish  companions  in  very  early  life,  the  constant  society 
of  her  grandmother,  the  character  of  her  disease,  her  famil- 
iar acquamtance  with  scriptural  language,  and  the  elevating 
influence  of  vital  religion,  may  be  assigned  as  the  causes  of 
this  seeming  precocity.  Every  sentence  of  her  conversation 
quoted  in  these  pages,  is  in  the  words  she  herself  employed. 

By  degrees  a  change  in  her  character  became  manifest. 
Her  burden  of  misery  seemed  to  be  gone.  She  was  begin- 
ning to  trust  in  atoning  blood.  Her  views  of  the  plan  of 
salvation  by  faith  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  by  the  renewing  of 


4  THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD. 

the  Holy  Ghost,  were  clear  and  consistent.  She  never  as- 
cribed any  thing  to  human  merit  or  human  power.  She 
esteemed  all  her  experiences  as  only  calling  for  praise  to  the 
glory  of  His  grace  who  had  made  her  accepted  in  the  Beloved, 
Her  whole  conversation  and  deportment  from  this  time  for- 
ward, proved  the  change  to  be  great  and  real.  Her  mind 
seemed  to  grasp  spiritual  truth  with  vigor,  and  to  feed  upon 
it  with  zest.  Her  memory  readily  retained  impressions  of 
the^truth,  and  all  she  had  ever  learned  seemed  now  to  come 
to  her  aid.  She  often  wrote  down  her  thoughts,  especially 
such  as  occurred  in  reading  the  Scriptures.  A  specimen  is 
here  given. 

"  1  John,  4  :  8,  9.  0  what  infinite,  great,  and  amazing 
love  is  that  described  here.  How  glorious  is  God,  to  send 
his  only-begotten  Son  into  the  world  to  die  for  sinful  men. 
'  0  Lord,  what  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him,  and 
the  son  of  man,  that  thou  visitest  him?'  " 

A  few  weeks  after  her  hopeful  conversion,  her  life  was 
again  brought  into  extreme  jeopardy  by  a  return  of  bleeding 
at  the  lungs.  This  attack  was  worse  than  either  of  the 
preceding.  Yet  all  was  now  tranquil.  No  violent  agitations 
disturbed  her.  As  soon  as  she  was  able,  she  spoke  freely  of 
her  feelings,  and  contrasted  them  with  what  they  had  been 
under  her  second  attack.  Then,  she  was  filled  with  fear. 
'Noii\  with  love  and  peace.  She  said,  "I  am  not  afraid  to 
die ;  I  am  willing  to  be  in  the  hands  of  God." 

As  soon  as  it  could  be  done,  she  was  taken  to  her  parents 
in  Lynchburgh.  In  the  last  week  of  December,  1830,  she 
was  received  into  the  communion  of  the  visible  church. 
This  step  was  not  taken  until  she  had  been  well  instructed 
in  the  nature  of  the  transaction.  Much  prayer  had  been 
offered  on  the  subject,  and  many  conversations  held  with  her 
respecting  her  religious  exercises.  She  had  also,  during 
about  seven  months,  exhibited  a  Christian  temper  and  de- 
portment. She  was  now  about  ten  years  and  ten  months 
old.  On  the  same  day  of  her  admission  to  the  church,  she 
partook  of  the  Lord's  supper.  In  speaking  of  this  service 
soon  afterwards,  she  said,  "  0  it  was  so  delightful.     I  felt  it 


THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD.  5 

was  good  to  be  there.  I  felt  as  if  God,  for  a  little  season, 
had  let  down  heaven  to  earth."  When  asked  why  the  com- 
munion had  been  like  heaven,  she  said,  "  Because  God's 
presence  was  there— 'tis  that  makes  heaven." 

Early  in  her  Christian  life  she  began  to  see  why  God 
had  afflicted  her.  Years  before  her  death,  she  requested  that 
whenever  she  should  die,  the  text  of  the  sermon  at  her  fu- 
neral should  be  Psalm  94  :  12.  "  Blessed  is  the  man  whom, 
thou  chastenest,  0  Lord,  and  teachest  him  out  of  thy  law." 
She  said,  "  I  had  rather  be  sick,  and  suffer  all  my  days,  and 
enjoy  religion,  than  be  restored  to  health,  and  live  as  I  have 
done." 

During  her  residence  in  Lynchburgh  there  was  great 
attention  to  religion  in  that  town,  and  in  all  the  surrounding 
country.  In  the  progress  of  this  work  she  felt  the  most  live- 
ly interest.  She  prayed  for  its  extension,  and  rejoiced  when- 
ever she  heard  of  a  hopeful  conversion.  Her  interest  was 
so  great,  that  when  her  pious  physician  and  pastor,  meeting 
in  her  room,  conversed  on  the  work  of  God,  her  joy  abomid- 
ed.  At  the  close  of  this  conversation,  one  asked  her  how 
she  was.  She  seemed  to  forget  all  her  bodily  pain,  and  re- 
plied, "  0,  Jesus  is  precious  ;  I  am  happy  in  him  ;  his  favor 
is  life,  and  his  loving-kindness  is  better  than  life." 

Meanwhile  her  disease  advanced,  and  in  the  spring  of 
1832  her  parents  again  removed  to  Richmond.  Here  her 
mind  and  her  gracious  affections  matured  fast.  For  a  long 
time  she  had  given  up  all  expectation  of  ever  recovering. 
One  day  her  grandmother  inquired  if  the  stillness  of  the 
grave  produced  no  alarm.  "  0  no,"  said  she,  "  '  I  know  that 
my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  he  shall  stand  at  the  latter 
day  upon  the  earth ;  and  though  after  my  skin  worms  de- 
stroy this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  I  shall  see  God.'  " 

On  another  occasion  she  said,  "  I  know  whom  I  have 
believed,  and  am  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that 
which  I  have  committed  to  him."  She  Avas  often  in  imme- 
diate and  imminent  danger  of  sudden  death  ;  and  it  was 
feared  that  her  frequent  recoveries  from  violent  attacks 
would  leave  her  mind  exposed  to  surprise  when  death  ap- 

VOL.  X.  5* 


(J  THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD. 

proached.     Yet  any  return  of  health  did  not  make  her  less 
devout,  or  less  solemn. 

On  Saturday  preceding  her  death,  there  v/as  a  marked 
change  in  her  disease .  She  was  the  first  to  perceive  it,  and 
sj)oke  of  it  with  composure,  saying,  "  Mother,  you  had  best 
not  leave  me,  for  I  don't  know  but  I  am  dying."  "  I  hope 
not,"  said  the  mother  ;  "  but  if  you  are,  I  trust  you  are  lean- 
ing on  a  stronger  arm  than  your  poor  frail  mother's."  "  0 
yes,"  said  she,  "  God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart." 

A  paroxysm  of  great  suffering  now  brought  on,  for  tl^o 
first  and  only  time,  a  momentary  delirium.  In  this  state 
her  grandmother  said,  "  Ann  Eliza,  would  you  not  wish  to 
go  to  your  heavenly  home — to  Jesus  ?"  The  delirium  was 
gone,  reason  regained  its  seat,  and  she  said,  "  0  yes,  I  wish 
to  go  to  Jesus,  he  is  precious  to  my  soul.  Help  me  to  praise 
him." 

One  said,  "  As  you  approach  nearer  to  eternity,  do  your 
views  of  the  glory  and  excellency  of  Christ  become  more  clear 
and  precious  ?"     She  replied,  "  He  is  my  all,  7ny  all." 

In  the  evening  of  this  day,  after  a  short  conversation 
and  prayer,  led  by  her  faithful  pastor,  she  said,  in  a  low  but 
distinct  voice,  "  I  love  my  parents,  I  love  you  all,  but  I  love 
my  Saviour  more  ;  I  long  to  depart,  and  be  with  Christ, 
which  is  far  better." 

She  even  objected  to  the  usual  opiate,  saying,  "  Let  me 
j)raise  God  while  I  have  breath."  Yet  when  told  that  it  was 
thought  to  be  her  duty,  she  readily  complied.  The  day  be- 
fore her  death,  it  became  evident  that  the  closing  scene  was 
at  hand.  Her  distress  for  breath,  and  her  danger  of  suffoca 
tion,  were  extreme,  and  prevented  her  saying  much.  Yet 
she  spoke  not  of  her  pains.  She  said,  "  I  am  dying ;  but 
death  has  no  sting  for  me — all  is  peace.  Sing  '  When  I 
can  read  my  title  clear.'  " 

Early  on  the  morning  of  this  her  last  Sabbath  on  earth, 
she  desired  a  very  dear  young  friend  to  be  sent  for.  When 
she  came,  Ann  Eliza,  extending  her  emaciated  arms,  received 
her  very  cordially,  and  though  unable  to  speak  aloud,  whis- 
pered a  most  solemn  and  tender  exhortation  ;  but  her  strength 


THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD.  7 

failing,  she  said,  "  Grandma,  I  can't  talk  to  her  ;  do  yoic  say 
to  her  what  /  would,  if  I  were  able." 

Some  time  during-  her  last  night  on  earth,  she  awoke 
from  a  short  slumber,  and  perceived  a  cold  sweat  upon  her- 
self She  asked  if  it  was  not  the  cold  sweat  of  death.  Her 
friend  replied,  "  It  may  be ;  but  if  it  is,  I  hope  it  gives  you 
no  concern."     She  rephed,  "0  no  ;  death  is  sweet  to  me." 

To  her  parents,  who  soon  came  into  the  room,  she  said, 
"  I  have  jDcrfect  peace  ;  we  shall  now  part,  but  we  shall  soon 
meet  again."  She  then  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  them, 
and  seemed  concerned  at  their  sufferings  only. 

During  this  trying  time,  her  faithful  grandmother  was 
able  to  be  with  her.  As  the  night  began  to  be  far  spent, 
her  agony  was  great,  and  her  spirit  seemed  to  say,  as  the 
angel  to  Jacob,  "  Let  me  go,  for  the  day  breaketh."  But 
her  warfare  was  not  quite  accomplished.  The  sun  arose. 
Her  mind  was  clear.  Every  look  of  her  eye  indicated  intel- 
ligence and  inward  peace,  though  the  pain  which  racked  her 
little  frame,  was  severe  beyond  all  ordinary  cases.  She  was 
unable  to  speak  much  ;  but  just  before  she  ceased  to  breathe, 
after  a  violent  struggle,  her  countenance  seemed  to  "shine 
as  it  had  been  the  face  of  an  angel,"  and  her  whole  appear- 
ance seemed  to  say,  "  My  cup  runneth  over  ;"  she  whispered 
firmly  and  audibly,  "  All  is  peace,  peace  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost."  Then,  without  another  struggle,  God  set  her  sjDirit 
free,  and  she  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.  Thus,  on  the  18th  day 
of  March,  1833,  died  "  the  child  a  hundred  years  old."  She 
is  buried  in  the  new  graveyard  at  Richmond.  A  small 
marble  tablet,  bearing  her  name  and  age,  and  her  favorite 
text,  Psalm  94  :  12,  in  verse,  points  the  wanderer  among 
the  tombs  to  her  resting-place. 

In  the  religious  character  of  Ami  Eliza  Williams,  some 
things  claim  a  more  full  consideration.     The  first  of  these  is, 

Her  faith.  After  her  conversion,  her  confidence  m  God, 
through  Jesus  Christ,  seldom  wavered.  Her  heart  was 
fixed,  trusting  iu  God.  Taught  by  the  Spirit,  her  views  and 
impressions  of  the  truth  were  vivid  and  abiding.  Eternal 
things  always  seemed  near.     She  often  spoke  of  a  state  of 


8  THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD. 

happiness  to  come,  not  only  as  an  undoubted  reality,  but  as 
•at  hand.  In  speaking  of  heaven  one  evening,  she  pointed 
to  a  beautiful  view  of  the  sky,  and  said,  "  If  I  could  break 
from  this  clay  tabernacle,  and  burst  through  that  azure  shell, 
I  should  be  there."  So  far  as  faith  regards  the  person  and 
offices  of  Christ,  hers  was  dependence  on  him  alone  as  a 
complete  Saviour.  Nor  was  her  faith  dead.  It  wrought 
with  her  works,  and  by  works  was  faith  made  perfect. 

Her  i^eace  was  great.  It  was  "  peace  in  believing,"  and 
it  was  like  a  river.  Those  who  were  in  the  habit  of  seeing 
her,  would  have  been  surprised  to  have  found  her  bereft  of 
calmness  of  soul.  In  her  case,  "  the  work  of  righteousness 
was  peace,  and  the  effect  of  righteousness,  quietness  and 
assurance  for  ever." 

Her  repentance  teas  thorough,  deep,  ingeimous,  and 
lasting.  Her  sense  of  personal  mi  worthiness  grew  from  her 
first  attention  to  religion  to  her  death.  She  was  more  than 
once  found  weeping,  years  after  conversion.  When  asked 
why  she  wept,  her  answer  was,  "  I  am  so  wicked."  She 
did  not  think  once  sorrowing  for  sin  was  enough.  As  often 
as  she  thought  of  her  sins,  it  was  with  shame  and  sorrow. 
Her  frequent  prayer  was,  "  Remember  not  against  me  the 
sins  of  my  youth  ;  enter  not  into  judgment  with  me." 

She  rejoiced  in  hope.  And  she  held  fast  her  confidence, 
which  had  great  recompense  of  reward.  The  apostle's  figure 
of  hope  being  an  anchor  to  the  soul  precisely  suited  her  case. 
She  Avas  tossed  with  tempest,  the  night  was  dark,  the  storm 
was  loud,  the  wind  was  rude,  the  waters  roared,  but  her 
hope  was  anchored  in  heaven,  and  her  bark  outrode  the 
storm,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  glided  serenely  into  the  haven 
of  rest.  Seldom  was  her  hope  obscured,  and  then  for  a  short 
time  only. 

Her  love  luas  strong.  She  longed  after  God.  She  loved 
all  that  belonged  to  God.  Her  delight  was  in  his  saints,  the 
excellent  of  the  earth.  His  word  was  sweeter  than  honey. 
His  Sabbaths  were  in  her  eyes  honorable.  One  day  in  his 
courts  was  better  than  a  thousand.  She  had  a  most  lively 
sense  of  the  self-denial  of  remaining  at  home,  when  others 


THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD.  9 

went  to  inquire  in  God's  temple,  and  there  behold  his  beauty ; 
and  when  her  health  permitted  her  to  go,  none  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  privilege  more. 

She  abounded  in  pi-ayer.  She  seemed  never  to  lose  the 
spirit  of  prayer,  but  to  be  continually  breathing  after  com- 
munion with  God.  Nor  were  her  prayers  unanswered.  God 
manifested  himself  unto  her  as  he  does  not  to  the  world. 
Two  Sabbaths  after  she  joined  the  church,  she  was  left  alone 
in  the  afternoon.  On  her  grandmother's  return,  she  said,  "  I 
have  had  a  precious  season.  God  has  been  with  me.  He 
has  given  me  such  realizing  views  of  the  joys  of  heaven,  and 
the  sufierings  of  my  Saviour  to  purchase  them  for  me,  that  I 
could  scarcely  contain  myself  for  joy." 

Her  gratitude  tvas  constant  and  lively.  The  least  favor 
at  the  hands  of  any  person,  excited  her  thankfulness.  "  I 
thank  you — I  thank  you  much — you  are  so  kind,"  were  ex- 
pressions often  in  her  mouth.  And  her  gratitude  to  God  was 
very  promment.  If  she  slept  better,  or  coughed  less  than 
usual,  she  mentioned  it  with  praise  ;  and  often  did  she  thank 
God  for  having  afflicted  her.     She  could  say, 

"  For  all  I  bless  thee — most  for  the  severe." 

Being  gratefid  for  all,  she  teas  of  course  suhinissive. 
During  her  whole  sickness  she  was  not  knovni  to  utter  one 
murmuring  word,  nor  was  one  fretful  expression  seen  on  her 
countenance.  Many  remember  how  dreadfully  she  suffered, 
yet  none  remember  to  have  heard  one  word  of  impatience. 
A  few  days  before  her  death,  she  said,  "  I  must  have  more 
dross  to  consume  than  others,  that  God  sees  it  necessary  to 
keep  me  so  long  in  this  furnace  of  suffering."  Thus  she 
never  "  charged  God  foolishly." 

She  tvas  strictly  conscientious.  She  was  greatly  afraid 
lest  her  ignorance,  or  inexperience,  or  unsanctified  temper, 
should  dishonor  religion.  Her  rule  respecting  all  doubtful 
things  was,  to  avoid  them.  She  would  not  go  to  any  place 
or  company,  as  a  show  or  fair,  unless  it  were  of  such  a  kind 
as  to  have  no  appearance  of  evil.  The  decisions  of  her  con- 
science were  clothed  with  the  majesty  of  law. 


10  THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD. 

Her  jyiety  teas  based  on  the  Bible.  It  was  the  rule  of 
her  life,  the  standard  of  her  faith,  the  end  of  disputes.  Dur- 
ing her  long  sickness  she  was  not  able  to  read  much,  and 
wisely  confined  herself  to  the  holy  Scriptures.  Her  views 
of  the  truths  of  revelation  were  clear,  sound,  and  consistent. 
She  is  remembered  to  have  expressed  herself  clearly  on  all 
the  great  doctrines,  even  down  to  that  sublime  doctrine  of 
the  resurrection. 

She  had  great  strength  of  religious  pi'inciple.  Before 
her  conversion  she  was  dreadfully  afraid  of  pain,  and  the 
sight  of  a  physician  coming  to  her  almost  overcame  her ; 
but  afterwards  she  never  refused  medicine,  however  offen- 
sive, nor  objected  to  any  operation,  however  painful. 

Her  religio7i  iiisured  good  conduct.  She  did  not  so  learn 
Christ  as  to  allow  her  to  set  up  her  own  will  in  opposition 
to  that  of  her  parents.  From  the  time  of  her  conversion  she 
scrupulously  honored  her  parents  and  others  her  superiors. 
She  was  very  careful  of  the  comfort  of  others.  She  often 
exerted  herself  beyond  her  strength  to  avoid  giving  trouble, 
and  expressed  fears  lest  her  own  sickness  should  so  multiply 
her  mother's  cares,  as  to  injure  her  health.  She  often  said 
nothing  of  her  sickness  and  wants,  until  others  spoke  of  them 
to  her.  She  was  very  industrious,  and  of  great  service  in 
maintaining  family  discipline  with  the  younger  cliidren. 

She  ivas  engaged  in  the  service  of  Christ.  She  seemed 
ingenious  in  making  occasions  to  say  something  for  God. 
Long  before  her  death,  she  told  her  father  that  the  conver- 
sion and  salvation  of  souls  lay  as  a  heavy  burden  on  her 
heart ;  and  when  near  the  close  of  life,  refused  to  have  a 
rocking-chair  bought  for  her,  and  requested  the  price  of  it  to 
be  given  to  the  Ceylon  mission,  Not  ten  days  before  her 
death,  she  undertook  to  employ  her  skilful  needle  in  doing 
some  work  for  a  benevolent  society.  Among  her  last  efforts 
she  said  to  one,  "  Why  don't  you  love  Jesus  ?  0  do  love 
him — ^he  died  for  you."  To  another  she  said,  "  Remember 
iwiv  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth."  Her  zeal  was 
well  tempered  with  discretion  and  gentleness. 

Her  religion  ivore  ivell.    It  bore  her  on — it  bore  her  up — 


THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD.  H 

it  bore  her  through.  She  came  out  like  gold,  purified  under 
every  trial.  Two  years  before  her  deatli,  she  said  she  was 
not  afraid  to  die.  Some  months  afterwards  she  said,  "  Death 
is  a  pleasant  journey,  a  sweet  release,  a  stepping  from  time 
into  eternity."  It  may  be  truly  said,  that  death  was  her 
familiar  acquaintance  for  years.  She  said,  that  as  she  lay 
dowai  at  night,  she  often  thought  she  might  wake  in  eter- 
nity, nor  did  the  thought  give  her  pain.  On  one  occasion 
she  said,  "  I  have  brought  death  very  near  to  me  this  even- 
ing— he  was  robbed  of  his  terrors.  At  times  I  look  at 
death  as  a  narroiv  stream,  which  I  must  pass  to  get  to 
heaven."  During  the  last  forty  hours  of  her  life,  she  often 
said,  when  she  could  say  no  more,  "  No  fear — no  fear." 

Her  religion  ivas  tvell-p?'opo)'tionecl.  It  was  not  all 
knowledge,  nor  all  sentiment,  nor  all  practice.  It  was  all 
these  harmoniously  combined.  One  duty  or  one  grace  was 
not  allowed  to  crowd  another  out  of  its  place.  It  was  uni- 
form. It  was  dignified.  Though  she  was  but  a  child,  and 
a  very  humble  and  unassuming  child,  it  was  impossible  to 
be  with  her  and  not  feel  "  how  awful  goodness  is." 

He?'  jnety  uris  lovely.  Her  humility  was  not  meanness  ; 
her  firmness  was  not  stubbornness  ;  her  solemnity  w^as  not 
sourness  ;  her  zeal  was  not  bitterness  ;  her  calmness  was  not 
stupidity  ;  her  speech  was  well-ordered  and  gracious.  She 
had  self-distrust,  but  no  cunning.  Her  faith  was  not  pre- 
sumptuous ;  her  hope  was  not  a  vain  confidence.  Though 
meek,  she  was  not  tame.  She  feigned  nothing  ;  she  dissem- 
bled nothing.  She  readily  acknowledged  her  faults,  and 
modestly  said  nothing  to  her  own  praise.  Her  joys  were 
sober  and  chastened,  though  unspeakable. 

Her  humility  was  a  rohe  cast  all  around.  The  atten- 
tions shown  her  were  w^ell  suited  to  inflate  a  carnal  mind 
with  pride  and  self-conceit.  But  they  all  seemed  to  humble 
her.  She  preferred  to  be  a  hearer  rather  than  a  speaker  on 
all  important  subjects.  There  was  nothing  like  pertness  in 
her  character.  She  was  naturally  tenacious  of  her  opinions, 
yet  her  great  change  so  deeply  impressed  her  with  a  sense 
of  her  own  ignorance  as  to  make  her  cautious  of  any  opinion 


12  THE  CHILD  A  HUNDRED  YEARS  OLD. 

not  founded  on  the  clear  authority  of  God.  Of  the  hundreds 
who  saw  her,  most  remarked  her  great  humiUty.  It  was 
no  scanty  garment.  It  covered  all  her  graces.  She  was 
"  clothed  with  humility." 

Are  you  a  parent  ?  Behold  here,  under  the  divine 
blessing,  the  success  of  a  proper  religious  education  in  sav- 
ing the  soul.  If  Ann  Eliza  had  been  trained  as  you  are 
training  your  children,  do  you  think  her  end  would  have 
been  peace  ? 

Are  you  sceptical  ?  Behold  here  the  power  and  the 
glory  of  the  Gospel.  See  a  little  child  triumphing  over  suf- 
ferings and  death,  neither  "  wearied  with  the  footmen,"  nor 
fearing  to  "contend  with  horses,"  neither  fainting  in  "the 
land  of  peace,"  nor  dismayed  in  "the  swelling  of  Jordan." 
What  else  besides  C^iristianity,  pure  and  undefiled,  can  point, 
in  all  its  annals,  to  the  story  of  one  whose  sun  went  down  in 
such  bright  effulgence  as  that  which  surrounded  the  depart- 
ing spirit  of  Ann  Eliza  Williams  ? 

This  case  also  shows  the  possibility  of  very  early  piety. 
The  Bible  long  since  taught  this.  The  history  of  Ann  Eliza 
furnishes  an  illustrious  example  of  what  God  can  do,  Avheii 
out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings  he  would  ordain 
strength.  Jesus  Christ,  who  died  for  little  children,  and 
who  said,  "  Feed  my  lambs,"  still  cares  for  them.  Himself 
was  once  a  little  child. 

Are  you  a  child  ?  0  come  to  Jesus  now.  Here  is  a 
loud  call  to  all,  to  repent,  and  prepare  for  death.  Perhaps 
you  are  unwilling  to  hear  the  living.  Then  listen  to  the 
dead.  Hear  Ann  Eliza's  last  appeal,  given  in  her  own 
words  :  "Look  at  me  now  dying.  A^liat  should  I  do,  if  I 
had  put  ofi^  repentance  till  this  time  ?  What  should  I  do 
now,  without  religion  to  support  me  ?  0  don't  let  the  world 
cheat  you  out  of  your  soul ;  if  you  lean  on  it,  you  will  fmd 
it  a  broken  reed,  that  will  pierce  you  through  with  many 
sorrows."  Here  her  voice  failed.  Dear  reader,  are  you 
ready?  "Except  you  be  converted,  and  become  as  a  little 
child,  you  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 


IVo.  360. 

REDEEMING  THE  TIME. 


"Do  not  squander  time,"  said  an  eminent  philosopher 
and  statesman,  "  for  time  is  the  stuff  life  is  made  ofT  Act- 
ing on  this  maxim  himself,  he  rose  from  an  humble  situation 
in  life,  to  learning,  wealth,  and  honor ;  and  had  he  applied 
the  principle  to  the  subject  of  religion,  he  would  also  have 
gained  the  endless  and  invaluable  blessings  which  it  secures. 

"  Redeem  the  time,'"  said  the  apostle  Paul,  under  the 
influence  of  the  Spirit  of  inspiration.  Obeying  himself  the 
injunction  which  he  delivered  to  others,  we  find  him  "  in- 
stant in  season  and  out  of  season,"  in  the  service  of  his 
divine  Master,  endeavoring  to  be  more  abundant  in  his 
labors,  because  he  had  once  persecuted  that  faith  which  now 
he  preached.  Under  its  influence  we  find  him  stamping 
the  impress  of  his  own  mind  on  thousands  in  his  own  and 
succeeding  ages,  instrumentally  saving  many  souls  from 
death,  and  winning  for  himself  a  crown  of  unfading  glory. 

The  proper  improvement  of  time  is  a  subject  worthy  of 
frequent  and  most  serious  attention.  jSTothing  is  more  valu- 
able, and  yet  nothing  is  in  general  less  regarded  ;  there  are 
indeed  some  who  sincerely  and  earnestly  wish  to  improve 
the  time,  and  glorify  God,  and  do  good  to  men  while  they 
remain  on  earth,  who  yet  accomplish  little,  because  they  do 
not  use  their  means  aright ;  such  need  counsel.  There  are 
others  who  look  on  time  as  a  kind  oi  enemy,  and  seek  to 
kill  it,  to  use  their  own  expression.  Appropriate  language. 
It  is  indeed  murder — a  species  of  suicide.  The  period  will 
certainly  come,  when  like  England's  maiden  queen,  they 
would  give  all  that  they  possessed  for  one  moment  of  that 
VOL.  X.  G 


2  REDEEMING  THE  TIME. 

precious  time  which  they  have  wantonly  squandered.  Happy 
will  they  be  if,  aroused  to  a  sense  of  its  value  while  some 
of  it  yet  remains,  they  endeavor  to  redeem  it. 

The  expression  which  the  apostle  employs  is  peculiar 
and  striking".  He  seems  to  speak  of  time  as  something  lost, 
which,  however,  was  so  valuable  that  it  would  be  proper  to 
make  efforts  to  procure  it  again,  or  redeem  it.  Past  time, 
it  is  true,  never  can  return,  but  yet  its  experience  may  afford 
much  valuable  instruction,  and  incite  us  to  greater  diligence 
in  the  improvement  of  that  which  may  yet  be  granted  us. 
In  this  way  the  future  may  be  made  more  useful,  and  we 
may,  in  a  certain  sense,  recover  the  past. 

I.  Time  is  exceedingly  valuable. 

This  will  appear  from  several  considerations. 

1.  From  the  opport7i7iities  ivhich  it  affords.  During  its 
progress  all  our  work  is  to  be  done,  and  our  eternal  happi- 
ness to  be  secured.  "  There  is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor  know- 
ledge, nor  wisdom,  hi  the  grave'''  Death  puts  an  end  to  all 
earthly  labors,  and  any  work  unfinished  then,  must  remain  so 
for  ever.  There  is  no  intermediate  state,  in  which  neglect 
and  criminality  in  this  world  may  be  repaired  or  expiated. 
There  is  no  repentance  in  the  grave,  no  forgiveness  in  hell. 
No  ordinances,  no  preaching,  no  praying,  no  praising,  no  Sab- 
baths, no  sanctuaries,  no  friendly  admonitions,  no  strivings 
of  the  Spirit,  can  be  enjoyed  in  the  other  world  by  those 
who  have  disregarded  them  in  this.  All  such  opportunities 
misimproved  are  irrevocably  lost. 

2,  The  short7iess  of  time  also  proves  its  value.  The  less 
there  may  be  of  any  good  thing,  the  more  valuable  is  it  con- 
sidered. In  this  point  of  view,  how  much  should  time  be 
prized.  "  What  is  our  life  ?  It  is  even  a  vapor,  that  ap- 
peareth  lor  a  little  time,  and  then  vaiiisheth  away."  "  When 
a  few  years  are  come,  we  shall  go  the  way  whence  we  shall 
not  return."  The  average  dura,tion  of  human  life  is  scarcely 
ihirtif  ifears.     From  this  must  be  deducted  at  least  one-third 


f 


REDEEMING  THE  TIME.  3 

spent  in  sleep,  and  taking  our  food  ;  and  in  most  cases,  some- 
thing more  is  lost  by  siclmess  :  how  small  is  the  remainder  ; 
and  therefore,  how  valuable. 

3.  Its  uncertainty  also  renders  it  valuable  :  short  as  it 
is,  we  know  not  hoio  short  it  is  ;  we  know  not  whether  it 
may  be  a  year,  or  a  month,  or  a  day,  or  an  hour,  which  may 
form  the  whole  of  the  future  part  of  our  lives.  Suppose,  to 
use  an  illustration  of  the  celebrated  essayist,  John  Foster, 
that  a  prisoner  is  supplied  with  water  from  a  cistern,  the 
amount  contained  in  which  he  knows  not,  but  he  is  sure  he 
can  obtain  no  more  when  it  is  exhausted  ;  how  careful  would 
he  be  of  every  drop,  because  he  laiows  not  how  much  re- 
mains. So  is  it  in  human  life.  How  many  sudden  deaths 
do  we  notice — how  unexpectedly  to  ourselves  as  well  as  to 
others  may  we  be  called  away.  "  At  such  a  time  as  we 
think  not,  the  Son  of  man  cometh."  We  need  to  be  ivatcli- 
ing,  to  be  always  ready — we  may  have  so  little  time  re- 
maming  that  we  cannot  dare  to  squander  any  of  it. 

4.  It  cannot  he  recovered^  if  once  lost,  except  in  the 
secondary  sense  already  mentioned.  "  There  is  hope  of  a 
tree,  if  it  be  cut  down,  that  it  will  sprout  again ;  but  man 
dieth  and  wasteth  away,  yea,  man  giveth  up  the  ghost,  and 
where  is  he  ?"  A  man  would  not  like  to  lose  what  was  very 
valuable,  even  if  he  had  the  hope  at  some  future  time  of 
recovering  it ;  how  much  less  should  we  be  willing  to  lose 
that  which  we  can  never  regain.  It  is  like  dropping  the 
precious  jewel  into  the  unfathomable  abysses  of  the  ocean. 
If  to-day  is  lost,  to-morrow  will  not  restore  it.  Our  regret 
or  repentance  will  not  bring  it  back ;  our  improvement  of 
the  future  will  not  obliterate  our  loss  of  the  past. 

5.  It  is  a  thing  foi'  which  ive  must  give  an  account. 
"  We  must  all  appear  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ." 
For  eve7-y  moment  we  are  accountable.  How  have  we  im- 
proved our  Sabbaths,  our  common  time,  our  hours  of  busi- 
ness, or  of  leisure  ?    The  servant  who  knows  that  his  master 


4  REDEEMING  THE  TIME. 

will  ask  him  at  nightfall  how  he  has  been  employed  during 
the  day,  will  feel  that  his  time  is  precious,  and  should  act 
accordingly. 

II.  Much  of  it  is  lost. 

All  that  time  is  lost  which  is  spent  in  a  sinful  manner  ; 
and  as  God  requires  all  our  time  to  be  devoted  to  himself, 
all  of  it  which  is  not  employed  directly  or  indirectly  in  his 
service,  is  spent  sinfully.     We  thus  may  lose  our  time, 

1 .  By  iclle7iess.  How  many  pass  hours  and  days  in  list- 
less apathy — mind  and  body  unemployed — a  dreaming  ex- 
istence, like  the  life  of  an  infant  or  an  idiot.  Let  such  ask, 
at  the  close  of  the  day,  how  they  have  been  engaged,  Avhat 
they  have  thought  or  done,  and  there  is  nothing  for  the 
memory  to  recall ;  their  time  has  been  almost  a  blank. 
Certainly  such  persons  have  lost  their  time. 

2.  By  dissipation  much  time  is  lost.  Some  relaxation 
is  necessary  both  for  mind  and  body  ;  if  the  bow  is  always 
tightly  strung  it  will  break.  This  will  not  be  lost  time, 
since  it  recruits  our  strength,  and  prepares  us  to  spend  more 
advantageously  what  follows.  But  dissipation,  whether 
physical  or  mental,  tmfits,  not  refits.  How  much  is  the 
body  often  thus  impaired.  Excess  of  eating,  or  drinking,  or 
sleeping,  all  weaken  the  system,  and  prevent  proper  im- 
provement of  time.  Midnight  revels,  gay  company,  not  to 
mention  indulgences  the  very  names  of  which  should  not 
be  uttered,  all  are  destructive.  How  much  dissipation  of 
time  is  caused  also  by  the  works  of  fiction,  or  even  what 
might  be  called  utter  nonsense,  with  which  the  press  is  now 
so  prolific.  How  do  the  theatre,  the  circus,  and  shows  of 
various  kinds,  fascinate  the  young  and  thoughtless,  and  ere 
they  are  aware,  carry  them  away  from  sober  thought  and 
regular  habits,  plunging  them  in  degradation  and  destruc- 
tion. None  can  think  time  is  profitably  spent  while  thus 
employed.     It  is  killed  indeed. 

3.  By  crime.     Principles  of  evil  are  deeply  rooted  in  the 


REDEEMING  THE  TIME.  5 

human  constitution,  and  oftentimes  external  objects  call 
them  out  to  a  fearful  development.  How  much  time  is 
worse  than  lost  in  thoughts  of  envy,  malice,  pride,  covet- 
ousness,  or  other  similar  baneful  affections  ;  how  much  in 
the  formation  or  execution  of  the  schemes  which  these,  if 
unchecked,  are  sure  to  suggest.  The  Psalmist  tells  us  that 
"the  wicked  man  deviseth  mischief  upon  his  bed,"  and  the 
prophet  Micah  denounces  a  woe  on  such  characters.  How 
much  time  and  toil  does  the  sinner  take  in  his  course  of 
crime — all  lost,  indeed  ;  and  how  often,  by  the  punishment 
which  human  laws  exact,  and  by  the  sure  vengeance  of 
divine  retribution,  is  he  made  to  suffer  for  such  conduct. 

4.  By  loorldly  i^urmiits.  It  is  proper  for  every  one  to 
have  some  particular  employment,  and  to  be  diligent  in  his 
business.  "  If  any  man  will  not  work,  neither  let  him  eat." 
But  it  is  not  i^roper  to  let  the  world  and  its  pursuits  engross 
the  whole,  or  even  the  greater  part  of  our  thoughts  and 
labors.  To  be  making  haste  to  be  rich,  to  be  rising  early 
and  retiring  late,  and  eating  the  bread  of  sorrow,  in  order  to 
increase  our  gain,  is  time  misspent.  The  love  of  the  world 
and  the  love  of  God  are  incompatible  with  each  other,  and 
all  who  are  endeavoring  to  serve  God  and  mammon  are 
engaged  in  a  vain  efibrt,  and  will  find  at  the  last  that  they 
have  lost  their  time  and  betrayed  their  hopes. 

III.    How  IMAY  TIME  BE  IMPROVED  ? 

The  consideration  of  its  value,  and  the  great  part  of  it 
wliich  has  been  lost,  should  cause  us  to  give  earnest  heed  to 
this  point.     And  we  mention, 

1.  Co)isec7'ate  it  all  to  Christ:  it  belongs  to  him  of 
right,  for  he  has  given  it  to  us.  Thus  will  it  be  spent  most 
pleasantly,  and  only  thus  safely  and  successfully.  First  of 
all,  if  we  wish  to  redeem  the  time,  we  must  devote  it  to  the 
service  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  to  be  spent  directly  or  indi- 
rectly in  promoting  his  glory.  But  more  particularly,  we 
should, 

VOL.  X.  Q* 


6  REDEEMING  THE  TIME. 

2.  Distribute  it  properly.  The  duties  of  religion,  pub- 
lic mid  private,  personal  and  social,  require  our  attention, 
and  should  have  a  portion  of  time  sacredly  devoted  to  them. 
The  ordhiary  affairs  of  life  must  not  be  neglected  ;  but  in 
whatever  calling  a  man  may  be,  he  must  conscientiously 
give  it  the  time  which  it  justly  demands.  Benevolence, 
too,  claims  its  portion  of  time  from  those  who  are  to  love 
their  neighbor  as  themselves.  While  attending  to  our  oAvn 
souls,  or  our  own  bodies,  we  must  not  forget  the  souls  or  the 
bodies  of  others ;  we  should  set  apart  a  portion  of  time  to 
instruct  the  ignorant,  to  comfort  the  afflicted,  to  warn  the 
thoughtless,  to  supply  the  bodily  wants  of  the  destitute. 
We  should  ascertain  what  each  of  these  objects  calls  for 
from  us,  and  arrange  our  time  accordingly. 

But  in  order  that  we  may  not  waste  our  time,  we 
should, 

3.  Be  careful  of  moments.  Because  Ave  have  but  a 
little  time,  we  sometimes  think  we  need  not  be  careful  of 
it ;  but  the  gathered  fragments  make  basketsfidl.  If  we 
take  the  sum  of  squandered  moments,  we  shall  find  that  it 
will  amount  to  hours,  and  days,  and  months,  and  even 
years.  Besides,  the  habit  of  disregarding  the  little,  Mall 
tend  to  make  us  neglect  the  much.  In  the  mint,  in  Phila- 
delphia, there  is  a  wooden  grating  on  the  floor  of  the  room 
in  which  gold  is  prepared  for  coinage ;  the  design  of  which 
is  to  prevent  any  of  the  precious  metal  being  lost  by  adher- 
ing to  the  feet.  It  has  been  found  that  the  minute  particles 
Avhich  are  thus  saved,  amount  to  thousands  of  dollars.  We 
must  not  lose  one  golden  minute. 

4.  Do  one  thing  at  a  time.  This  was  the  rule  on 
which  the  celebrated  De  Witt  acted,  and  which  he  assigned 
as  the  reason  for  his  having  accomplished  so  much.  When 
the  mind  is  distracted  by  the  attempt  to  attend  to  many 
things  at  once,  nothing  will  be  done  right,  and  all  the  time 
will  most  probably  be  lost. 


REDEEMING  THE  TIME.  7 

5.  Acquire  command  of  your  thoughts.  How  much 
time  is  lost  by  wandering  thoughts,  by  dreamy  reveries, 
when  we  wake  from  which,  we  can  scarcely  say  we  have 
been  even  conscious  of  existence.  Newton  ascribed  his  emi- 
nent attainments  to  ^:)«/.ze7i^  thought,  and  every  one  who 
desires  to  become  an  instrument  of  good,  or  to  spend  his  time 
profitably,  must  obtain  a  control  over  his  thoughts — a  power 
to  direct  them  to  any  subject  he  desires  to  confine  them  to, 
and  to  guide  them  as  he  pleases  in  its  consideration.  We 
should  endeavor  to  make  our  mental  powers  as  obedient  to 
the  will  as  the  members  of  our  body  are. 

6.  Endeavor  to  get  some  good  out  of  every  object.  If 
properly  viewed,  every  thing  will  afford  it.  We  may  be 
compelled  sometimes  to  attend  to  what  may  not  be  pleasant 
in  itself,  but  it  is  possible  to  get  honey  even  from  a  lion's 
carcass ;  and  the  more  imlikely  the  source  from  which  we 
have  obtained  the  benefit,  the  more  satisfaction  should  we 
feel  that  we  have  procured  it. 

7.  Frequently  review  the  past.  This  will  teach  us 
better  to  understand  our  errors,  and  prevent  a  repetition  of 
them ;  it  will  strengthen  our  intellectual  powers,  it  will 
lead,  if  rightly  attended  to,  to  more  conscientious  improve- 
ment of  our  time. 

8.  Fervently  pray  for  divitie  direction  and  assistance, 
for  it  is  only  when  God  himself  "  teaches  us  to  number  our 
days,"  that  we  "  apply  our  hearts  to  wisdom." 

These  hints  may  serve  to  suggest  to  us  the  proper  way 
of  redeeming  our  time.  No  doubt  the  closing  year  has  wit- 
nessed much  which  has  been  misspent  and  lost ;  let  us 
endeavor  that  the  end  of  the  next  year,  if  we  are  all  spared 
to  reach  it,  may  show  that  we  have  been  ''redeeming  the 
time." 


REDEEMING  THE  TIME. 


TIME  AND  ETERNITY. 

Lo,  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land, 
'Twixt  two  unbounded  seas  I  stand ; 
Yet  how  insensible  ! 


A  point  of  time^  a  moment's  space, 
Removes  me  to  yon  heavenly  place, 
Or  shuts  me  up  in  hell. 

0  God,  my  inmost  soul  convert. 
And  deeply  in  my  thoughtless  heart, 

Eternal  things  impress ; 
Give  me  to  feel  their  solemn  weight.. 
And  save  me  ere  it  be  too  late : 

Wake  me  to  righteousness. 

Before  me  place,  in  bright  array. 
The  pomp  of  that  tremendous  day. 

When  thou  with  clouds  shalt  come 
To  judge  the  nations  at  thy  bar ; 
And  tell  me,  Lord,  shall  I  be  there, 

To  meet  a  joyful  doom? 

Be  this  my  one  great  business  here, 
With  holy  trembling,  holy  fear, 

To  make  my  calling  sure ; 
Thine  utmost  counsel  to  fulfil, 
And  suffer  all  thy  righteous  will. 

And  to  the  end  endure. 

Then,  Saviour,  then  my  soul  receive. 
Transported  from  this  vale,  to  live 

And  reign  with  thee  above  ; 
Where  faith  is  sweetly  lost  in  sight, 
And  hope  in  full,  supreme  delight. 

And  everlasting  love !  Wesley. 

PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


ATOraC^BLOOD. 

.    t   C         ;  ■ •   .  '.I    I 

"THE  BLOOD    OF    JESUS    CHRIST   CLEANSETH    FROM   ALL   SIN." 

1  John,  1 :  7. 

Sin  is  a  want  of  conformity  to  the  law  of  God.  It  in- 
cludes opposition  to  his  will,  rebellion  against  his  govern- 
ment, ingratitude  for  his  favors,  and  an  impious  refusal  to 
serve  and  glorify  him.  No  wonder,  then,  that  sin  is  repre- 
sented in  Scripture  as  that  abominable  thing  which  Jeho- 
vah hates  ;  that  he  cannot  look  upon  it  but  with  abhorrence  ; 
and  that  "he  will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty."  Nor  is 
this  all :  sin  is  not  only  an  object  of  God's  just  displeasure, 
but  it  is  as  polluting  and  degrading  as  it  is  criminal.  It  is 
not  merely  an  offence,  but  it  is  also  a  corroding  disease, 
which,  unless  it  be  removed,  must  inevitably  separate  the 
soul  from  God,  and  render  it  wholly  unfit  for  the  pure  joys 
of  his  presence. 

With  this  evil  every  son  and  daughter  of  Adam  is 
chargeable.  "There  is  not  a  just  man  upon  earth,  who 
doeth  good,  and  sinneth  not."  Eccles.  Y  :  20.  *'  By  one 
man  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin ;  and  so 
death  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that  all  have  sinned."  Rom. 
5  :  12.  With  the  guilt  of  transgression  every  one  of  our 
race  is  by  nature  loaded,  and  with  the  pollution  of  this 
moral  leprosy  every  soul  is  defiled.  "  If  any  man  say  he 
hath  no  sin,  he  deceiveth  himself,  and  the  truth  is  not  in 
him." 

And  as  sin  is  so  odious  in  itself,  so  it  is  the  parent  of  all 
misery.  As  it  is  that  "  accursed  thing"  which  God  has 
forbidden,  and  which  is  an  abomination  in  his  sight,  so  it 
ever  brings  with  it  its  natural  and  unfailing  consequence — 
the  wrath  of  a  holy  God ;  all  the  miseries  of  this  life ;  the 
death  of  the  body ;  the  blight  and  ruin  of  the  soul ;  and, 
when  not  repented  of,  the  pains  of  hell  for  ever.  Nor  is 
this  a  mere  arbitrary  consequence.     The  justice  of  God  is 


2  ATONING  BLOOD. 

an  essential  attribute  of  his  character.  As  the  righteous 
Governor  of  the  universe,  it  is  impossible  that  he  should 
fail  to  testify  his  displeasure  against  sin.  He  cannot  receive 
the  impenitent  sinner  to  his  favor  without  ''  denying  him- 
self," trampling  on  the  authority  of  his  own  law,  abandon- 
ing the  dignity  of  his  government,  and  setting  an  example 
to  the  subjects  of  his  moral  empire,  adapted  to  encourage 
rebellion,  and  to  introduce  universal  disorder.  He  can  there- 
fore no  more  omit  to  testify  his  fixed  opposition  to  sin  and 
sinners,  than  he  can  cease  to  be  a  righteous  and  holy  Sov- 
ereign. 

All  this  the  method  of  salvation  by  Christ  presupposes. 
The  Gospel  is  addressed  to  us  as  sinners,,  All  its  com- 
mands, all  its  offers,  all  its  exhortations  and  warnings,  and 
all  its  "exceeding  great  and  precious  promises,"  proceed 
upon  the  principle  that  all  those  to  whom  it  comes  stand 
in  need  of  a  deliverer  from  guilt  and  pollution.  Hence,  the 
Saviour,  we  are  told,  was  expressly  called  Jesus,  because 
he  came  "  to  save  his  people  from  their  sins."  Matt.  1:21. 
Accordingly,  from  sin,  in  every  respect,  the  Gospel  pro- 
claims complete  and  eternal  deliverance. 

But  how  is  this  deliverance  effected  ?  By  simply  passing 
sin  by,  and  dispensing  Avith  its  threatened  penalty  ?  By  a 
mere  act  of  sovereign  forgiveness,  without  any  demonstra- 
tion of  God's  abhorrence  of  evil  ?  By  no  means.  "  Christ 
hath  redeemed  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a 
curse  for  us^  "  We  have  redemption  through  his  blood,  even 
the  forgiveness  of  sins,  according  to  the  riches  of  his  grace." 

There  is  no  doctrine  more  important  than  this.  It  lies 
at  the  foundation  of  all  Christian  faith  and  hope.  If  it  were 
asked,  Wliat  is  the  essence  of  the  Gospel?  The  answer, 
undoubtedly,  ought  to  be.  It  is  a  gracious  message  which 
informs  a  race  of  lost,  miserable  sinners,  how  they  may  be 
delivered  from  the  condemnation  of  sin  by  the  atoning  blood 
of  the  Son  of  God,  and  from  the  dominion  and  pollution  of 
sin  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  given  in  virtue  of  the 


ATONING  BLOOD.  3 

vicarious,  atoning  sacrifice  of  the  Redeemer,  who  came  that 
he  might  "  finish  transgression,  make  an  end  of  sin,  make 
reconcihation  for  iniquity,  and  bring  in  everlasting  right- 
eousness."   Daniel  9 :  24. 

Reader,  are  you  not  desirous  to  know  in  what  manner 
"the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin?'' 
Your  attention  is  earnestly  requested  to  an  humble  attempt 
to  throw  light  on  this  subject. 

1.  How  does  the  blood  of  Christ  cleanse  from  the  con- 
demnation OF  SIN  ?  How  does  it  deliver  men  from  the 
wrath  and  curse  of  God  justly  due  for  every  transgression? 
We  shall  conceive  more  clearly  of  this  subject  by  recurring 
for  a  moment  to  the  language  and  the  typical  institutions 
of  the  Old  Testament  economy.  Immediately  after  the  fall 
of  our  first  parents,  God  was  pleased  to  command  that  the 
blood  of  animals  should  be  poured  out,  and  the  flesh  offered 
in  sacrifice,  by  those  who  worshipped  him,  as  an  acknow- 
ledgment of  their  sins,  and  as  a  kind  of  figurative  expiation 
of  them.  Not  that  "  the  blood  of  bulls  or  of  goats  could 
really  take  away  sin,"  but  he  who  brought  and  offered  up 
the  bleeding  victim  in  obedience  to  the  divine  command,  by 
this  sacrifice  made  confession  of  his  sins,  and  of  his  desert 
of  death,  and  typically  expressed  his  humble  reliance  on 
the  atoning  blood  of  the  infinitely  greater  sacrifice  after- 
wards to  be  offered  up  once  for  all.  Hence,  a  large  part 
of  the  worship  of  the  ceremonial  dispensation  consisted  in 
the  daily  offering  of  bloody  sacrifices,  which,  typically  and 
ceremonially,  took  away  sin ;  that  is,  when  they  were  regu- 
larly brought  according  to  the  divine  prescription,  the  sacri- 
ficer  was  absolved  from  all  liability  to  suffer  the  external 
penalty  of  transgression ;  and  when  they  were  offered  with 
sincere  and  humble  reliance  on  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  the 
Messiah  to  come,  all  guilt,  all  obligation  to  punishment  was 
taken  away,  and  the  penitent  and  believing  offerer  accepted 
as  righteous  in  the  sight  of  God.  In  making  this  offering, 
he  who  brought  the  victim  laid  his  hand  upon  its  hefid,  as 


4  ATONING  BLOOD. 

a  kind  of  solemn  symbolical  transfer  of  sin  from  himself  to 
the  devoted  animal,  and  as  an  acknowledgment  that  he 
himself  deserved  to  die. 

Besides  this  daily  offering,  once  a  year,  on  the  great  day 
of  atonement,  a  similar  but  still  more  formal  and  solemn, 
expiatory  offering  was  made  in  behalf  of  the  whole  people. 
But  the  most  remarkable  bloody  offering  was  that  of  the 
paschal  lamb,  intended  to  commemorate  the  deliverance  of 
the  children  of  Israel  from  bondage  in  Egypt,  and  more 
especially  from  the  stroke  of  the  destroying  angel  when 
the  first-born  of  the  Egyptians  were  slain.  The  blood  of 
the  slain  lamb  was  ordered  to  be  sprinkled  upon  the  lintels 
and  door-posts  of  the  Israelitish  houses,  and  all  the  families 
which  had  this  mark  on  their  dwellings  were  passed  over, 
and  spared  by  the  destroying  angel ;  thus  teaching,  by  a 
most  impressive  type,  that  all  who  were  washed  in  the  blood 
of  the  great  sacrifice,  and  none  others,  should  be  spared 
and  accepted  in  the  day  of  trial.  In  short,  as  the  apostle 
to  the  Hebrews  declares,  "  almost  all  things  under  the  law 
were  purged  with  blood  ;  and  without  the  shedding  of  blood 
there  was  no  remission."    Hebrews  9  :  22. 

^  All  this  was  done,  not  that  the  literal  blood  of  animals 
was  expected  to  take  away  moral  defilement,  nor  that  a 
God  of  infinite  benevolence  delighted  in  the  slaughter  of 
innocent  creatures  on  its  own  account ;  but  as  a  series  of 
**  sacramental  memorials"  of  man's  desert  of  death,  and  of 
"  the  Lord's  death"  as  the  substitute  and  surety  of  all  who 
should  believe  in  his  name. 

Accordingly,  when  our  blessed  Saviour  came  in  the  flesh, 
all  these  typical  representations  were  fulfilled,  and  their 
meaning  realized.  These  were  "shadows  ;"  Christ  was  the 
"  substance"  and  the  "  end"  of  them  all.  These  were  "  fig- 
ures for  the  time  then  present ;  but  Christ  being  come  a 
High-Priest  of  good  things  to  come,  by  a  greater  and  more 
perfect  tabernacle,  not  made  with  hands,  neither  by  the 
blood  of  goats  and  calves,  but  by  his  own  blood,  he  entered 


r 


ATONING  BLOOD.  5 

once  into  the  holy  place,  having  obtained  eternal  redemption 
for  us  :  for  if  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats,  and  the  ashes 
of  a  heifer  sprinkling  the  unclean,  sanctifieth  to  the  puri- 
fying of  the  flesh,  how  much  more  shall  the  blood  of  Christ, 
who  through  the  eternal  Spirit  offered  himself  without 
spot  to  God,  purge  your  conscience  from  dead  works  to 
serve  the  living  God  ?"    Heb.  9  :  9-14. 

But  hoiv  does  the  blood  of  Christ  deliver  from  the  con- 
demnation of  sin?  By  "the  blood  of  Christ"  we  are  to 
understand  the  death  of  Christ,  which  was  effected  by  shed- 
ding his  blood.  Hence,  he  is  said  to  have  "  died  for  our 
sins,"  1  Cor.  15:3;  that  is,  to  "  take  away  our  sins,"  Rom. 
11  :  27;  to  have  "made  his  soul  an  offering  for  sin;"  to 
have  "  put  away  sin  by  the  sacrifice  of  himself."  Hebrews 
9  :  26.  All  that  Christ  underwent  as  the  Redeemer  of  sin- 
ners, and  which  was  consummated  by  shedding  his  blood 
on  the  cross,  may  be  considered  as  comprehended  under 
the  general  expression  of  his  atoning  blood.  As  the  sacri- 
fice, under  the  ceremonial  economy,  was  not  complete  with- 
out actually  shedding  the  blood  of  the  victim  ;  so  the  sacri- 
fice of  the  Son  of  God,  offered  up  once  for  all,  was  not 
finished  until  "  he  bowed  his  head"  in  the  agony  of  expiring 
nature,  and  "gave  up  the  ghost." 

Our  race  had  become  miserable  sinners.  AVe  had  broken 
the  holy  law  of  God  under  which  we  were  placed,  and  had 
rendered  ourselves  liable  to  all  the  weight  of  that  dreadful 
penalty  which  it  denounces  against  offenders.  The  language 
of  this  holy  law  is,  "  Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth 
not  in  all  things  which  are  written  in  the  book  of  the  law 
to  do  them."  Yet  no  one  of  Adam's  race  ever  did  render 
a  perfect  obedience  to  this  law.  Such,  then,  is  our  awful 
situation.  We  have  transgressed  the  holy  law  of  God  times 
and  ways  without  number.  We  have  no  righteousness  of 
our  own  to  meet  its  inexorable  demands.  We  must  die,  or 
the  justice  of  God  must  be  tarnished  ;  or  some  one,  able 
and  willing,  must  pay,  in  our  behalf,  the  mighty  debt  which 

VOL.    X.  7 


6  ATONING  BLOOD. 

we  owe  to  divine  justice,  and  become  our  ransom.  We  can 
make  no  reparation  for  our  sins  ;  we  are  helpless,  and  with- 
out hope  in  ourselves.  Not  all  the  men  on  earth,  nor  all 
the  angels  in  heaven  could  deliver  us  from  the  grasp  of 
divine  justice  armed  with  almighty  power.  But  ''  what  the 
law  could  not  do,  in  that  it  was  weak  through  the  flesh, 
God"  accomplished  by  "  sending  his  own  Son  in  the  like- 
ness of  sinful  flesh,  and  for  sin,  condemned  sin  in  the  flesh, 
that  the  riMiteousness  of  the  law  might  be  fulfilled  in  us." 
Rom.  8  :  3,  4.  Yes,  this  alternative,  which  has  filled  all 
heaven  with  wonder,  joy,  and  praise,  since  the  hour  in 
which  it  was  proclaimed — this  amazing  alternative  was 
adopted  in  the  counsels  of  eternal  wisdom.  The  Son  of 
God,  the  Lord  of  angels  and  of  men,  condescended  to  take 
our  nature  upon  him — to  appear  in  the  form  of  a  servant, 
and  to  obey  and  suffer  as  our  substitute.  He  said,  in  the 
counsel  of  peace,  "'  Let  me  take  the  place  of  the  guilty. 
Let  me  die  to  save  them.  Deliver  them  from  going  down 
to  the  pit — I  have  found  a  ransom."  The  wonderful,  the 
unparalleled  off*er  was  accepted.  He  who  "  thought  it  no 
robbery  to  be  equal  with  God,  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a 
servant ;  and  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  humbled  him- 
self, and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the 
cross."  He  "  suflPered  for  us,  the  just  for  the  unjust."  He 
who  was  very  God  and  very  man  in  the  same  mysterious 
person,  made  himself  a  willing  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  rebels. 
The  Lord  laid  on  him  the  iniquities  of  us  all.  "  He  hath 
made  him  to  be  sin  for  us,  who  knew  no  sin,  that  we  might 
be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him."  2  Cor.  5  :  2L 
Not  that  Christ  literally  became  a  sinner,  or  deserved  to  be 
treated  as  a  sinner  ;  but  he  took  the  law-place  of  sinners, 
and  was  treated  as  if  he  had  been  a  sinner,  that  we,  though 
most  unworthy,  might  be  treated,  for  his  sake,  as  if  we  had 
fulfilled  the  law  in  -our  own  persons.  Accordingly  "  he 
made  peace  by  the  blood  of  his  cross."  He  "gave  himself 
for  us,  that  he  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity."     There 


r 


ATONING  IJLUOD.  7 

is,  therefore,  now  "  no  condemnation  to  them  that  are  in 
Christ  Jesus."  They  are  freely  ''justified  from  all  things 
from  which  they  could  not  be  justified  by  the  law  of  Moses." 

Thus  does  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanse  from  the 
CONDEMNATION  OF  SIN.  It  takes  away  from  the  true  be- 
liever all  liableness  to  punishment  on  account  of  sin.  Though 
his  sins  still  deserve  the  wrath  of  God,  he  is  graciously  ac- 
quitted and  accepted  through  the  merits  of  Christ's  atoning 
sacrifice ;  and  this  acquittal  has  a  respect  not  merely  to 
some  of  his  sins,  but  to  all  of  them.  This  precious  blood 
cleanseth  from  all  sin.  The  moment  the  regenerated  soul 
embraces  the  Saviour  by  faith,  as  "the  Lord  his  righteous- 
ness," "though  his  sins  were  as  scarlet,  they  become  white 
as  snow ;  though  they  were  red  like  crimson,  they  are  as 
wool."  He  is  clothed  in  a  "robe  washed  and  made  white 
in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb."    Isaiah  1:18;  Rev.  7  :  14. 

But  the  apostate  children  of  Adam  need  something  more 
than  cleansing  from  the  condemnation  of  sin.  Their  nature 
is  depraved.  "  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God," 
and  while  it  remains  under  the  reigning  power  of  this  de- 
praved disposition,  is  altogether  unfitted  for  communion  with 
God,  and  incapable  of  participating  in  the  joys  of  heaven. 
The  soul  must  be  "  cleansed"  from  this  moral  defilement,  this 
spiritual  leprosy,  before  it  can  be  "meet  for  the  inheritance 
of  the  saints  in  light."  Accordingly  the  Scriptures  teach  that, 

2.  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanses  eflfectually  and 
completely  from  the  power  and  pollution  of  sin,  as  well 
as  from  its  condemnation.  "  Without  holiness,  no  man 
shall  see  the  Lord."  It  is  just  as  essential  to  our  eternal 
well-being  that  we  be  restored  to  the  image  of  God,  as  that 
we  be  restored  to  his  favor'.  Hence,  it  is  a  vital  part  of  the 
plan  of  salvation  by  Christ,  to  sanctify  men  as  well  as  to 
justify  them. 

But  hoio  does  the  blood  of  Christ  cleanse  the  soul  from 
its  inherent  depravity  ?  This  is  a  question  which  must  ap- 
pear deeply  interesting  to  all  who  know  any  thing  of  the 


8  ATONING  BLOOD. 

evil  of  indwelling  sin,  and  who  groan,  being  burdened  under 
the  weight  of  its  grievous  corruption. 

It  is  the  immediate  and  appropriate  office  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  sanctify  the  soul.  "  It  is  the  Spirit  that  quicken- 
eth."  John  6  :  63.  Hence  the  promise  of  Jehovah  to  the 
objects  of  his  saving  mercy  :  "  Behold,  I  will  sprinkle  clean 
water  upon  you ;  from  all  your  filthiness,  and  from  all  your 
idols,  will  I  cleanse  you.  A  new  heart  also  will  I  give  you, 
and  a  new  spirit  will  I  put  Avithin  you ;  and  I  will  take 
away  the  stony  heart  out  of  your  flesh,  and  I  will  give  you 
a  heart  of  flesh.  And  I  will  put  my  Spirit  within  you,  and 
cause  you  to  walk  in  my  statutes,  and  ye  shall  keep  my 
judgments,  and  do  them."  Ezekiel  36  :  25-27.  In  short, 
for  the  commencement  of  holiness  in  the  heart  in  regenera- 
tion, and  for  every  progressive  attainment  made  in  conform- 
ity to  the  will  of  God,  *'in  crucifying  the  flesh,  with  the 
affections  and  lusts,"  we  are  indebted  to  the  Holy  Spirit  of 
God. 

But  it  is  only  in  virtue  of  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  Christ 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  of  sanctification  is  given.  This  is  one 
of  the  great  benefits  which  the  Redeemer  died  to  purchase 
for  his  people.  Had  he  not  suffered  and  died,  the  Holy 
Spirit  had  never  been  given  to  enlighten  and  purify  his  dis- 
ciples. "If  I  go  not  away,"  said  he,  **the  Comforter  will 
not  come  unto  you."  John  16  :  7.  Not  only  so,  but  one 
great  purpose  for  which  the  Saviour  became  incarnate  was, 
that  "  he  might  sanctify  his  people  with  his  own  blood." 
Accordingly  we  are  told,  "  He  loved  the  church,  and  gave 
himself  for  it,  that  he  might  sanctify  and  cleanse  it  with  the 
washing  of  water  by  the  word ;  that  he  might  present  it  to 
himself  a  glorious  church,  not  having  spot  or  wrinkle,  or 
any  such  thing;  but  that  it  should  be  holy  and  without 
blemish."  Eph.  5  :  25-27.  And  again,  "He  gave  himself 
for  us,  that  he  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  and  purify 
unto  himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of  good  works." 
Titus  2:14.    We  may  say,  then,  that  the  sanctification  of 


ATONING  BLOOD. 


his  people  is  as  much  a  part  of  the  purchase  of  a  Saviour's 
blood,  as  any  of  the  benefits  which  they  receive.  In  laying 
down  his  life,  he  left  no  uncertainty  in  respect  to  the  salva- 
tion of  believers ;  but  "  through  sanctification  of  the  Spirit 
and  belief  of  the  truth,"  secured  as  firmly  their  deliverance 
from  the  dominion  and  pollution  of  sin,  as  from  its  condem- 
nation ;  and  insured  to  every  child  of  God  conformity  to 
his  image,  and  preparation  for  the  society  and  employments 
of  a  holy  heaven. 

We  may  add,  that  the  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  from 
the  power  and  pollution  of  sin,  in  that  believing  views  of  his 
atoning  blood  have  a  direct  and  powerful  tendency  to  pro- 
mote our  sanctification.  In  proportion  as  the  mind  of  man 
believingly  contemplates,  and  practically  embraces  "the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  and  especially  that  great  cardinal 
truth,  in  which  all  the  lines  of  revelation  meet — that  Jesus 
Christ  laid  down  his  life  to  save  sinners,  and  that  his  blood 
cleanseth  from  all  sin — will  the  power  of  sin  be  broken  in 
him,  and  he  conformed  to  the  great  design  of  the  Saviour's 
death.  Nothing  is  more  adapted  to  humble,  soften,  and 
purify  the  soul,  than  believing  views  of  the  adorable  Re- 
deemer— his  eternal  and  matchless  love — his  wonderful  suf- 
ferings and  death — and  the  rich  benefits  which  flow  from 
his  atoning  blood.  A  lively  faith  in  these  amazing  objects 
presents  such  views  of  the  divine  character  and  law,  such 
apprehensions  of  the  astonishing  love  of  Christ,  such  mo- 
tives to  obedience,  and  such  a  constraining  power  over  the 
whole  man,  as  are  adapted,  more  than  any  or  all  other  con- 
siderations, to  abase  pride,  to  convince  of  sin,  to  melt  the 
heart  in  penitential  sorrow,  to  bind  it  to  the  Redeemer  in 
sacred  confidence  and  love,  and  to  impel  to  habitual  holiness 
of  heart  and  of  life. 

Thus  complete  is  the  dehverance  from  all  sin  by  the 
blood  of  Jesus  Christ.  Thus  does  it  take  aAvay  the  con- 
demning power  of  sin ;  the  dominion  of  sin ;  the  love  of 
sin  ;  the  pollution  of  sin  ;  and,  in  due  time,  all  its  remaininc^ 

VOL.    X.  7* 


10  ATONING  BLOOD. 

existence  from  the  heart.  Happy,  thrice  happy  is  he  on 
whom  these  benefits  are  bestowed.  Well  may  the  inspired 
Psalmist  pronoimce,  "  Blessed  is  the  man  whose  transgres- 
sion is  forgiven,  whose  sin  is  covered  ;  unto  whom  the  Lord 
imputeth  not  iniquity,  and  in  whose  spirit  there  is  no  guile." 

But  let  it  ever  be  remembered,  that  this  blessedness 
belongs  to  none  hut  true  believers  ;  to  none  but  those  who 
"believe  with  the  heart  unto  righteousness;"  that  is,  who 
receive  and  rest  on  the  Saviour,  with  humility,  gratitude,  and 
love,  as  their  hope  and  life.  The  blood  of  the  paschal  lamb 
did  not  avail  excepting  to  those  on  whose  door-posts  it  was 
sprinkled.  Neither  will  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  avail  to 
the  cleansing  of  any  but  those  to  Avhom  it  is  spiritually 
applied.  However  complete  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  the 
Redeemer,  we  are  assured  it  will  benefit  only  those  who 
cordially  and  gratefully  receive  it.  However  rich  and  all- 
cleansing  the  efficacy  of  his  blood,  those  only  will  have  their 
sins  washed  away  in  this  precious  fountain,  who  repair  to 
it  by  faith,  and  renounce  all  hope  of  cleansing  and  saving 
themselves.  "  He  that  belie veth,"  said  the  Lord  of  glory, 
"  shall  be  saved ;  but  he  that  believeth  not,  shall  be  damned." 
Mark  16  :  16.  Again  he  declared,  *' If  ye  believe  not  that 
I  am  he,  ye  shall  die  in  your  sins."  John  8  :  24.  And 
again,  "  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  hath  everlasting  life ; 
and  he  that  believeth  not  the  Son  shall  not  see  life,  but  the 
wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him."  John  3  :  36.  Yes,  notwith- 
standing all  that  the  divine  Redeemer  has  done  and  suffered, 
those  who  reject  or  disregard  his  merciful  offer,  must  go 
down  to  the  prison  of  eternal  despair,  with  all  their  sins 
unpardoned,  with  all  their  depravity  unbroken ;  under  the 
power  of  that  "fleshly  mind"  which  is  enmity  against  God, 
and  under  the  weiofht  of  that  wrath  which  will  consiorn  them 
to  "  everlasting  destruction  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord, 
and  from  the  glory  of  his  power."   2  Thess.  1  :  9. 

Beloved  reader,  what  think  you  of  these  things  ?  Be 
assured,  that  what  has  been  said  is  no  idle  speculation.     It 


ATONING  BLOOD.  U 

is  truth  of  everlasting  importance.  It  is  your  life.  You 
are  a  sinner.  You  cannot  deny  the  charge.  You  need 
forgiveness  and  sanctification.  You  must  inevitably  perish 
unless  you  obtain  both.  You  can  never  obtain  those  bless- 
ings but  "  through  the  redemption  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus  ;" 
and  you  can  have  no  interest  in  that  redemption  without 
feeling  your  need  of  it,  and  cordially  receiving  it  as  the 
ground  of  your  hope,  and  the  life  of  your  soul.  Have  you, 
then,  received  Christ,  and  are  you  resting  in  him?  Have 
you  good  evidence  that  you  have  been  pardoned  through 
the  atoning  blood,  and  renewed  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  ?  Or  does  your  conscience  bear  witness  that  you  are 
"yet  in  your  sins,"  and  of  course  have  no  part  nor  lot  in 
the  salvation  of  the  Gospel  ?  0  reader,  these  are  questions 
in  comparison  with  which  all  others  are  trifling. 

Many  hearers  of  the  Gospel  are  daily  busying  themselves 
in  vain  speculations  concerning  the  origin  of  evil,  and  the 
philosophy  of  our  depravity ;  while  the  melancholy  fact, 
and  the  proffered  deliverance  from  it,  occupy  but  little  of 
their  attention.  0  when  will  infatuated  mortals  be  per- 
suaded to  renounce  this  folly,  and  to  "  consider  their  ways  ?" 
Impenitent  reader,  while  you  speculate  and  cavil,  you  per- 
ish. Behold,  through  Christ,  is  preached  unto  you  the  for- 
giveness of  sins.  **  He  that  cometh  to  him  shall  in  no  wise 
be  cast  out."  He  is  "  able  to  save  them  to  the  uttermost, 
that  come  unto  God  by  him."  Hebrews  7  :  25.  Let  no 
sinner,  then,  either  wilfully  or  carelessly  neglect  to  embrace 
the  offer  of  mercy  so  freely  and  graciously  made.  If  any 
are  excluded  from  the  cleansing  power  of  the  Saviour's 
blood,  it  will  be  because  they  exclude  themselves.  Yes,  fel- 
low-mortal, if  you  perish,  it  will  not  be  on  account  of  any 
insufficiency  in  the  blood  of  Christ  to  make  you  clean ;  but 
solely  because  of  your  voluntary  and  unbelieving  rejection 
of  a  proffered  deliverance,  the  most  effectual,  blessed,  and 
glorious,  that  was  ever  presented  to  a  creature's  acceptance. 

Nor  let  the  awakened,  anxious  sinner,  who  has  been 


12  ATONING  BLOOD. 

made  in  some  measure  to  see  the  number  and  aggravation 
of  his  sins,  indulge  the  fear  that  his  sins  are  too  great  to  be 
washed  away  even  by  a  Saviour's  blood.  Were  it  the  blood 
of  a  mere  man,  or  of  a  mere  exalted  creature,  0  sinner,  to 
which  we  direct  your  attention  and  your  confidence,  you 
might  Avell  despair.  But  it  is  the  blood  of  him  who  was 
truly  God,  as  well  as  truly  man,  in  the  same  mysterious 
person.  It  is  no  extravagance  to  say,  that  it  is  the  blood 
of  an  infinite  sacrifice.  "Wherefore  he  is  able  to  save  them 
to  the  uttermost,  that  come  unto  God  by  him."  Heb.  7  :  25. 
Blessed  be  his  holy  name  for  that  precious  word,  the  ut- 
termost. It  covers  the  worst  cases.  It  extends  to  every 
possible  degree  of  guilt.  Though  your  sins  were  the  black- 
est that  ever  disgraced  the  annals  of  rebelhon,  yet,  if  you 
humbly  apply  to  this  blood  of  atonement,  if  you  come  with 
faith  and  penitence  to  this  "  fountain  opened  for  sin  and 
uncleanness,"  you  will  not  be  rejected.  Has  the  Saviour 
pledged  his  almightiness  as  well  as  his  love  ?  Has  he  said, 
"  Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth ; 
for  I  am  Jehovah,  and  there  is  none  else  ?"  Isa.  45  :  22. 
And  can  you  still  doubt  whether  he  is  able  as  well  as  will- 
ing to  save  all  that  come  unto  God  through  him  ? 

Let  those  who  have  already  taken  refuge  in  the  Saviour, 
and  who  desire  more  and  more  to  be  cleansed  from  sin,  re- 
member whither  they  are  to  go  for  the  attainment  of  this 
blessing.  Yes,  believer,  if  you  wish  daily  to  mortify  cor- 
ruption, to  overcome  the  world,  and  to  grow  in  grace,  be 
much  employed  every  day  in  believing  contemplations  of 
Christ,  his  redeeming  love,  his  atoning  sacrifice,  his 
cleansing  blood,  his  holy  example,  and  the  holy  joys  of 
his  presence.  Meditate  much  on  these  objects,  and  you 
will  be  able  to  say,  with  the  apostle,  "I  live;  yet  not  I, 
but  Christ  liveth  in  me ;  and  the  life  which  I  now  live  in 
the  flesh,  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  loved 
me,  and  gave  himself  for  me."     Gal.  2  :  20. 


rVo.   363. 

UNIVERSALISM 
UNSCRIPTURAL    AND    ABSURD. 


The  Bible  speaks  of  a  time  when  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
will  appear  in  glory  with  the  holy  angels,  will  have  all 
nations  assembled  before  him,  and  will  there  separate  the 
righteous  from  the  wicked — saying  to  the  righteous,  **  Come, 
ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for 
you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world ;"  and  to  the  wicked, 
*'  Depart  from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared 
for  the  devil  and  his  angels."  And  the  history  closes  with 
this  tremendous  declaration,  "These  shall  go  away  into 
everlasting  punishment,  but  the  righteous  into  life  eternal." 
Matt.  25  :  31-46.  Agreeably  to  what  seems  the  obvious 
import  of  this  scripture,  the  great  body  of  Christians  in  all 
ages  have  believed  that  those  who  live  and  die  impenitent 
suffer  endless  punishment.  On  the  other  hand,  many, 
commonly  denominated  Universalists,  have  held  that  no 
one  will  thus  suffer,  but  that  all  the  children  of  Adam  will 
be  eventually  and  for  ever  happy  with  God. 

Before  entering  directly  upon  the  examination  of  the 
latter  sentiment,  it  may  be  useful  to  state  the  essential 
principles  of  the  divine  government,  as  generally  under- 
stood by  evangelical  Christians.  What  is  needful  to  our 
present  purpose  may  be  embodied  in  the  four  following 
propositions. 


2  UNIVERSALISM  UNSCRIPTURAL. 

1.  God  has  placed  men  under  a  righteous  law,  Rom. 

2  :  12-15,  whose  penalty — according  to  its  just  value,  the 
importance  of  the  interests  it  guards,  and  the  consequences 
of  transgression — is  eternal  death.  Ezek.  18  :  20;  Rom. 
6  :  23. 

2.  All  men  have  broken  this  laAV,  and  are,  therefore, 
righteously  condemned.     Rom.  3  :  11-19. 

3.  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has  offered  himself  a  pro- 
pitiatory sacrifice,  Rom.  3  :  25,  for  the  sins  of  men,  Heb. 
10  :  12  ;  so  that  whosoever  will  repent  and  trust  in  him  for 
pardon,  shall  be  justified  and  receive  everlasting  happiness. 
John  3  :  15,  16  ;  Rom.  3  :  24-26. 

4.  Those  who  will  not  turn  from  their  transgressions, 
nor  comply  with  the  reasonable  conditions  of  the  Gospel, 
during  the  present  season  of  probation,  will  be  driven  away 
in  their  wickedness,  to  endless  suffering  and  shame.     John 

3  :  5,  36  ;  2  Thess.  1  :  7-9. 

Universalists  generally  allow  that  all  men  are  subject  to 
the  moral  law,  and  are  sinners  ;  but  they  maintain  that  the 
salvation  which  is  through  Christ,  is  not  only  sufificient  for 
all,  and  within  reach  of  all,  and  freely  offered  to  all,  but 
that  it  will  be  absolutely  secured  to  all.  Their  error  ap- 
pears to  originate  mainly  in  very  low  views  of  the  nature 
and  value  of  God's  commandments,  and  in  practically  re- 
garding sin  as  a  small  matter.  Hence,  they  suppose  the 
penalty  of  the  divine  law  to  be  a  mere  trifle  in  comparison 
with  what  has  been  stated  above.  Most  of  them  maintain 
one  of  the  two  following  positions :  Either,  1 .  That  the 
proper  and  just  punishment  of  sin  is  moral  and  spiritual 
death,  {%.  e.  destitution  of  holiness,)  remorse  of  conscience, 
and  the  varied  ills  of  the  present  life,  including  the  death 
of  the  body — and  that  there  is  nothing  after  death  but  a 
pure  and  blessed  immortality ;  Or,  2.  That  punishment  is 
commenced  in  the  mental  and  bodily  sufferings  of  this  life, 


UN  I  VERBALISM  UNSCRIPTURAL.  3 

and  continued  in  a  future  temporary  hell,  where  the  wicked 
suffer  as  much  as  their  sins  deserve,  are  purified,  and  taken 
to  heaven.  Those  holding  this  opinion  are  comparatively 
few  in  number,  and  are  generally  known  as  "  Restora- 
tionists." 

The  inconsistency  and  folly  of  this  latter  scheme  may 
be  thus  evinced : 

1.  There  are  no  passages  of  Scripture  which  show  how, 
and  when,  and  where  the  sinner  is  delivered  from  hell,  if 
once  he  falls  into  it ;  and  it  seems  impossible  to  doubt  that, 
had  our  Saviour  designed  to  teach  the  doctrine  in  question, 
so  momentous  a  fact  would  have  been  clearly  and  explicitly 
revealed.     Luke  16  :  26. 

2.  If  the  scheme  of  final  restoration  be  true,  prophets 
and  apostles  are  chargeable  with  such  weakness  and  ob- 
scurity in  their  waitings  as  would  destroy  all  confidence  in 
the  sacred  volume.  No  author,  of  modern  times  at  least, 
has  ever  found  difficulty  in  writing  so  as  to  make  men  un- 
derstand that  he  did  not  believe  in  endless  punishment ; 
but  conceding  the  truth  of  Universalism,  inspired  men  have 
written  so  strangely  as  to  lead  a  great  majority  of  all  serious 
and  learned  persons,  who  study  the  original  Scriptures,  or 
the  different  translations,  to  believe  what  is  false  in  regard 
to  the  character  and  government  of  God,  and  the  hopes 
and  destiny  of  man.  See  Psalm  11  :  6;  Matt.  10  :  28; 
Mark  3  :  29  ;  John  5  :  29 ;  2  Peter   2  :  12. 

3.  It  is  irrational  to  affirm  that  mere  suffering  or  pun- 
ishment would  ever  win  to  loyalty  and  love  the  heart  that 
had  remained  impenitent  amid  rich  and  varied  exhibitions 
of  paternal  chastisement,  forbearance,  and  mercy.  Rev. 
16  :  9-11.  Nor  is  it  conceivable  that  the  companionship  of 
sorcerers,  whoremongers,  murderers,  idolaters,  and  liars, 
Rev.  22  :  15,  should  have  any  tendency  to  make  men  holy 
and  fit  them  for  heaven. 


4  UNIVERSALISxM  UNSCRIPTURAL. 

4.  The  scheme  of  restoration  destroys  the  whole  doc- 
trine of  salvation  by  grace.  The  Bible  declares,  that  there 
is  no  other  name  through  which  we  can  be  saved,  except 
that  of  Christ,  Acts  4  :  12,  and  that  we  have  redemption 
through  his  blood,  the  forgiveness  of  sins.  Ephes.  1  :  Y. 
But  if  the  wicked  suffer  the  just  punishment  of  their  sins 
in  hell,  and  are  there  purified,  they  can  be  just  as  well 
saved  without  Christ  as  Avith  him.  Indeed,  they  neither 
want  a  Saviour  nor  can  they  have  any.  Moreover,  it  is 
manifest  that,  upon  this  scheme,  sinners  can  neither  receive 
forgiveness  through  the  blood  of  Christ,  nor  in  any  other 
way ;  for  having  suffered  the  proper  penalty  of  the  law, 
they  have  a  right  to  deliverance  on  the  footing  of  justice. 
It  is  mere  mockery  to  say  to  a  culprit  that  he  receives  for- 
giveness ''according  to  the  riches  of  grace,"  while  at  the 
same  time  he  has  paid  in  his  own  person  ''  the  wages  of 
sin." 

5.  The  doctrine  of  restoration  teaches — what,  indeed, 
Universalists  generally  affirm — that  God  punishes  no  sinner 
except  for  his  individual  good ;  that  the  penalty  for  all 
transgression  is  fatherly  correction,  designed  to  reclaim  and 
bless.  Hence,  whenever  a  man  sins,  he  receives  as  penalty, 
goodness,  in  some  form,  at  the  hand  of  the  Lord.  Upon 
this  hypothesis,  the  more  men  sin,  the  richer  experience 
will  they  continually  have  of  God's  goodness ;  and  the  soul 
that  shall  receive  the  highest  possible  manifestations  of 
divine  favor,  will  be  the  most  outrageous  and  heaven-daring 
rebel  on  earth.  This  follows  inevitably  from  the  doctrine 
that  God  inflicts  upon  sinners  only  that  which  is  for  their 
good ;  and  who  can  help  seeing  that  this  is  little  else  than 
for  the  Almighty  to  offer  a  premium  for  blasphemy  and 
rebellion  ?  According  to  this  doctrine  also,  God's  raining 
upon  the  wicked  "snares,  fire,  and  brimstone,"  is  synony- 
mous with  sending  upon  them  sanctifying  mercies !     And 


UNIVERSALISM  UNSCRIPTURAL.  5 

the  threatening  against  the  ungodly,  of  "indignation  and 
wrath,  tribulation  and  anguish,"  refers  to  the  distribution 
of  different  sorts  of  blessings  !  The  Scripture  expression, 
"fierce  wrath  of  God,"  means  simply,  fierce  goodness  of 
God  ;  and  the  "  fiery  indignation  which  shall  devour  the 
adversaries,"  jneans  fiety  mercy  which  shall  save  the  adver- 
saries ;  and  "  the  smoke  of  their  torment  which  ascendeth 
up  for  ever  and  ever,"  must  be  understood  as  the  smoke  of 
the  salvation  of  the  damned ! 

6.  If  the  penalty  of  the  divine  law  be  disciplinary  and 
purifymg  punishment  in  a  future  state,  then  hell  is  a  most 
desb-able  home.  According  to  the  doctrine  in  hand,  it  fits 
multitudes  for  heaven  who  were  incorrigible  upon  earth  ; 
it  is  a  kind  of  hospital,  where  the  deeply  diseased  with  sin, 
and  otherwise  incurable,  are  restored  to  perfect  soundness. 
Hence,  no  one  need  fear  the  "  damnation  of  hell,"  nor  in- 
dulge a  mistaken  wish  to  "  escape"  it.  It  is  a  place  of 
mercy.  Hell  is  designed  to  secure  the  eternal  salvation  of 
the  ungodly,  and  the  sooner  they  feel  its  purifying  flames, 
the  sooner  will  they  have  paid  the  wages  of  sin,  and  be 
cleansed  for  the  joys  of  heaven. 

The  absurdity  of  supposing  that. hell,  or  the  proper 
punishment  of  sin,  is  in  this  life,  may  be  thus  evinced : 

1.  If  remorse  of  conscience,  etc.,  be  the  penalty  of  the 
dinne  law,  then  it  follows,  that  the  more  men  sin,  the  less 
they  are  punished ;  for  every  one  knows  that  forebodings 
of  evil  and  the  stings  of  conscience  cease  to  be  distressing 
just  in  proportion  as  men  become  habituated  to  work  wick- 
edness. All  that  sinners  need  do  to  "  escape  the  damna- 
tion of  hell,"  and  what  it  would  be  wisdom  for  them  to  do, 
according  to  this  sentiment,  is,  simply,  to  sin  with  such  a 
high  hand  as  that  conscience  shall  become  seared,  and  they 
be  "  past  feeling,"  then  their  happy  souls  will  be  almost  if 
not  altogether  prepared  for  eternal  glory. 

VOL.   X.  8 


6  UNIVERSALISM  UNSCRIPTURAL. 

2.  If  the  just  punishment  of  sin  immediately  and 
necessarily  follow  its  commission,  in  mental  and  bodily 
sufferings,  then  all  the  inflictions  of  parents  upon  rebellious 
children,  and  of  magistrates  upon  the  state  criminal,  are 
most  imjustifiable  tyranny,  as  Avell  as  an  impious  invasion 
of  the  divine  prerogative.  Universalism  maintains  that  God 
has  so  constituted  us,  that  the  commission  of  crime  draws 
after  it  its  full  reward  of  suffering,  immediately  and  with- 
out the  possibility  of  escape.  This  being  so,  who  shall  dare 
add  to  the  righteous  penalty  which  heaven  ordains,  and  the 
culprit  has  suffered  ?  On  this  scheme  of  morals,  an  abused 
people  would  be  fully  justified  in  demolishing  every  jail, 
penitentiary,  and  gallows  in  the  land,  and  in  treating  judges, 
jurors,  and  sheriffs  as  the  worst  of  nuisances  and  the  most 
flagitious  oppressors. 

3.  This  scheme  of  Universalism  gives  perfect  and  un- 
limited license  to  the  ungodly  and  the  scoffer.  It  says  to 
the  infidel,  whose  breath  is  poisoning  the  very  fountain  of 
morals,  and  to  those  who  are  rotting  within  the  precincts 
of  the  brothel,  and  to  those  who  curse  and  stagger  under 
the  influence  of  intoxication,  *'  You  are  now  suftering  the 
penalty  of  God's  law — there  is  no  hell  for  the  wicked  be- 
sides the  one  you  are  now  in — after  death  is  no  sin,  no 
suffering — nothing  for  the  soul  but  a  pure  and  blessed  im- 
mortality." Who  does  not  see  that  the  most  abandoned 
wretches  can  desire  no  greater  impunity  than  this  doctrine 
affords  them?  And  what  intelligent  mind  can  resist  the 
conviction  that,  if  this  view  of  the  divine  government  were 
to  prevail,  personal  safety  and  social  order  would  no  longer 
exist,  but  anarchy,  confusion,  and  blood  would  overspread 
the  land  ? 

4.  This  doctrine  destroys  the  entii'e  substance  of  the 
Gospel,  and  is  also  contradictory  to  itself.  Universahsm 
professes  to  believe  that  the  Lord  Jesus  suves  all  men  :  yet 


UNIVERSALISM  UNSCRIPTURAL  7 

he  cannot  save  from  a  fitture  hell,  for  the  doctrine  affirms 
that  there  is  none :  he  saves  none  from  a  liresent  hell,  or 
from  the  just  demerit  of  their  sins,  for  the  doctrine  affirms 
that  a  righteous  retribution  immediately  and  irresistibly 
follows  every  transgression.  It  will  not  be  seriously  pre- 
tended that  our  Lord  saves  all  from  sin,  for  it  is  notorious 
that  great  multitudes  live  and  die  in  iniquity ;  nor  will  it  be 
alleged  that  the  grace  of  Christ,  in  some  unimaginable  way, 
changes  men^s  hearts  so  as  to  fit  them  for  heaven,  for  Uni- 
versalism  maintains  that  death  produces  this  change.  Hence, 
it  is  demonstrably  true,  that  this  heresy  not  only  destroys 
the  Gospel  of  Christ,  but  actually  subverts  itself. 

5.  The  doctrine  that  sin  and  suffering  exist  only  in  this 
present  life,  would  make  it  a  dictate  of  prudence  and  piety, 
for  some  individuals  at  least,  to  commit  suicide.  The  Bible 
warns  sinners  to ''  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,"  and  reason 
strongly  urges  men  to  become  holy  and  happy.  Let  any 
one,  then,  Avho  pants  after  the  joys  of  heaven  and  com- 
munion Avith  God,  just  put  an  end  to  his  own  life,  and  he 
will  inherit  immortality  and  bliss  in  a  moment.  Especially, 
if  Universalism  be  true,  ought  those  who  are  deeply 
conscious  of  sin,  and  all  who  are  oppressed  with  poverty 
and  sickness,  as  well  as  those  who  are  daily  vexed  with  the 
fanatical  zeal  of  the  "orthodox,"  to  call  in  the  aid  of  pistol, 
or  razor,  or  laudanum — for  either  of  these  instruments 
would  secure  a  comparatively  easy  death — and  glide 
quickly  into  paradise,  where  they  would  receive  the  plau- 
dit, "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant,  enter  thou  into 
the  joy  of  thy  Lord."  If  the  doctrine  under  discussion  be 
according  to  Scripture,  no  reasoning  can  set  aside  this 
conclusion. 

6.  Conceding  the  truth  of  Universalism,  it  can  be 
proved  that  the  pirate  executed  at  New  York  for  having 
killed  some  two  hundred  of  his  fellow-men,  lived  a  most 


8  UNIVERSALISM  UNSCRIPTURAL. 

useful  life  ;  for  he  hurried  great  numbers,  with  but  little 
pain,  from  sin  and  sorrow,  to  the  joys  which  are  at  God's 
right  hand.  And  allowing  that  sin  and  suffering  exist  only 
in  this  life,  and  that  beyond  the  grave  is  a  bright  and  bless- 
ed state  of  existence  for  all,  this  robber  of  the  seas  might 
have  plead  before  his  judges  that  in  all  he  did  he  was  ac- 
tuated by  the  purest  benevolence :  and  no  one  can  gainsay 
his  declaration.  *'  I  saw  my  fellow-men,"  he  might  allege, 
"  toiling  and  suffering,  almost  continually  falling  into  sins 
that  dishonored  God,  and  haunted  with  gloomy  remem- 
brances and  forebodings — exposed,  moreover,  to  a  death  of 
uncertain  and  dreadful  anguish :  my  compassionate  heart 
yearned  over  them,  and  longed  to  do  them  good :  it  was 
plain,  yea,  certain,  that  glory  and  blessing  was  prepared 
for  all  after  death  ;  and  that  many  fearful  souls  would  not 
*  escape  the  damnation  of  hell,'  in  which  they  were  suffer- 
ing in  this  life ;  accordingly  I  devoted  my  life  to  the  simple 
and  (who  shall  deny  it)  benevolent  business  of  aiding  my 
brethren,  my  kinsmen  according  to  the  flesh,  up  to  paradise, 
by  the  quickest  and  gentlest  means." 

And  this  is  a  picture  of  Universal  ism  :  not  drawn  with 
any  wish  to  caricature  or  misrepresent,  but  to  exhibit  the 
true  features  and  relations  of  this  most  monstrous  and 
deformed  of  all  the  progeny  of  error.  Isaiah  28  :  15-20. 
Reader,  beware  of  it :  make  not  its  lies  your  refuge  or  your 
hope. 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


Xo.  363. 

COME    TO    JESUS; 

OR, 

HOW    TO    FIND    REST. 

A  TRUE  NARRATIVE. 


A  CLERGYMAN  was  One  morning  sitting  in  his  study,  when 
Mrs.  A.,  a  coachmaker's  wife,  called  on  him  in  great  distress 
of  mind.  Upon  her  entering  the  room,  a  conversation  took 
place,  of  which  the  following  is  the  substance. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  A.  ;  I  hope  I  see  you  quite  Avell  ?" 
"  Gluite  well,  I  thank  you,  sir,  in  body,  but  I  am  wretched 
in  mind,"  answered  Mrs.  A.,  weeping.  "Indeed,"  said  Mr, 
R.,  "what  is  the  cause  of  your  distress?"  "0,  sir,  I  am 
such  a  sinner."  "How  long  have  you  been  in  this  state? 
How  long  have  you  been  suffering  in  mind  on  account  of 
your  sins?"  "About  four  years,  sir."  "  And  what  have 
you  done  to  obtain  relief  ? "  "Sir,  I  have  done  every  thing 
I  can  think  of."  "  Have  you  attended  the  appointed  means 
of  grace  ?  What  church  have  you  been  in  the  habit  of  fre- 
quenting ?"  "  Sir,  I  have  gone  to  every  church  in  the  town." 
"  And  have  you  found  no  comfort,  no  benefit  ?"  "A  little, 
sometimes ;  but  it  soon  goes  away  again,  and  leaves  me  as 
wretched  as  before.  Sir,  I  am  a  miserable  woman."  Here 
Mrs.  A.  again  wept  bitterly. 

Mr.  R.  now  began  to  suspect  that  poor  Mrs.  A.  was  one 
of  those  persons  who,  neglecting  the  private  means  of  grace, 
and  having  itching  ears,  run  about  from  church  to  church  to 
hear  different  preachers,  but  who  neglect  the  admonition, 
"  Take  heed  how  ye  hear."  He  therefore  continued  :  "  Have 
you  searched  the  Scriptures  ?  Do  you  read  the  Bible  at 
home?"  "Sir,  I  am  always  reading  the  Bible.  I  cannot 
but  read  it;  it  is  my  only  hope."  "Have  you  derived  no 
comfort  from  its  invitations  and  promises?"  "I  think  1 
VOL.  X.  8* 


2  COME  TO  JESUS. 

have  got  a  little  comfort  sometimes,  sir ;  but  it  soon  leaves 
me,  and  I  become  as  w^retched  as  before." 

Still  Mr.  R.  thought  that  Mrs.  A.,  whilst  diligent  in 
searching  the  Scriptures,  might  be  neglecting  prayer,  the 
true  index  of  the  soul.  He  proceeded,  and  said,  "  Have  you 
prayed  for  peace  ? "  "  Sir,  I  am  praying  all  day  long. "  "  And 
have  you  received  no  answer  to  your  prayers ;  have  you  ob- 
tained no  consolation  ?"  "  Sometimes,  sir,  I  get  a  little  peace 
after  I  have  prayed,  but  it  soon  goes  away  again.  0,  sir,  I 
am  a  miserable  woman."  And  here,  again,  the  tears,  which 
the  poor  woman  shed  abundantly,  showed  the  deep  anguish 
of  her  soul. 

Mr.  E-.  was  now  satisfied  that  she  was  a  sincere  inquirer 
after  salvation.  He  inwardly  rejoiced  at  her  state.  He  felt 
assured  the  Holy  Spirit  was  leading  her,  though  through 
deep  waterfloods,  to  the  feet  of  Jesus.  But  for  a  while  he 
was  at  a  loss  to  discover  why  the  peace  which  she  so  ear- 
nestly desired,  and  so  diligently  sought,  was  withheld  from 
her.  At  length  he  thought  he  could  see  the  rock  on  which 
she  was  splitting.     He  therefore,  after  a  pause,  continued  : 

"  I  think  I  can  see  wherein  you  have  erred."  "  Indeed, 
sir,"  replied  Mrs.  A.,  "I  shall  be  very  thankful  if  you  can 
point  out  my  error,  and  tell  me  how  I  can  find  rest  for  my 
poor  soul."  "  Will  you,  then,  candidly  answer  two  or  three 
questions  ?  When  you  attended  the  house  of  God,  read  your 
Bible,  and  prayed,  did  you  rely  on  these  means  to  give  you 
comfort?"  "  I  think  I  did,  sir,"  answered  Mrs.  A.,  looking 
surprised  at  the  question.  "  And  when  you  prayed,  to  whom 
did  you  pray  ?"  "To  God,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  A.,  looking  still 
more  surprised  than  before  ;  "to  whom  else  could  I  pray  ?" 

Mr.  R.  was  now  satisfied  that  he  had  discovered  her 
error :  that  she  had  not  with  simple  faith  looked  to  the 
LoE-D  Jesus  Christ,  through  whom  alone  we  have  access 
to  the  Father ;  that  she  had  not  duly  "  considered  Him"  as 
bearing  our  nature  in  union  with  his  own,  being  "  touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,"  and  "  able  to  save  them 
to  the  uttermost  that  come  unto  God  by  him,  seeing  he  ever 
liveth  to  make  intercession  for  them."     "  I  think,"  said  he, 


COME  TO  JESUS.  3 

•'  I  see  why  you  have  not  found  abiding  rest  for  your  soul. 
"Will  you  read  this  verse?"  pointing  her  to  the  28th  verse 
of  the  1 1th  chapter  of  Matthew.  Mrs.  A.  read,  "  '  Come  unto 
me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest.'"  "Who  spoke  these  words?"  asked  Mr.  R. — 
"read  the  25th  verse,  just  before;  what  does  that  say?" 

"  '  At  that  time  Jesus  answered,  and  said  .'  "      "  Now, 

who  is  the  speaker?"  "Jesus,  sir."  "Now  tell  me,  in 
your  distresses,  have  you  not  used  the  means  you  have 
named — attending  church,  reading  the  Bible,  and  prayer — 
and  rested  upon  them  for  comfort,  and  not  upon  the  Lord 
Jesus  ?  And  in  your  prayers,  have  you  accepted  the  invita- 
tion of  Jesus  ?  Have  you  gone  to  him  for  rest  ?  Have  you 
prayed  to  him  ?  Have  you  closed  with  the  invitation,  and 
hung  upon  the  promise  of  Jesus,  '  Come  unto  me,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest?'  " 

Mrs.  A.  looked  amazed  ;  she  paused  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then,  whilst  tears  filled  her  eyes,  exclaimed,  "  0,  sir,  I  see 
my  mistake.  I  see  where  I  have  been  wrong.  0,  how 
could  I  so  long  have  overlooked  the  Lord  Jesus.  He  prom- 
ises rest,  but  I  never  went  to  him.  Now  I  see  it.  I  won- 
der at  myself  that  I  never  saw  this  before." 

Mrs.  A.  had,  till  now,  been  ignorant  of  the  true  charac- 
ter of  God.  The  being  of  whom  she  had  conceived,  was  not 
the  God  of  the  Bible,  not  God  manifest  in  Jesus  Christ,  the 
God  of  infinite  love  and  pity.  Till  now,  she  had  overlooked 
the  all-important  declaration  of  Jesus,  "  I  am  the  Way,  and 
the  Truth,  and  the  Life  :  no  man  cometh  unto  the  Father, 
but  by  me."  John  14  :  6.  She  had  overlooked  Christ  as 
"  God  manifest  in  the  flesh."  She,  like  Peter,  had  looked  at 
the  storm  rather  than  at  the  Saviour,  and  began  to  sink. 
But  now  a  flood  of  light  burst  upon  her  mind,  and  discovered 
to  her  burdened  soul,  that  God  has  revealed  himself  as  the 
God  of  all  grace  and  consolation  in  Jesus  Christ.  The  Holy 
Spirit  had  now,  "  in  the  day  of  Christ's  power,"  taken  of  the 
things  of  Jesus,  and  shown  her,  that  according  to  the  terms 
of  the  everlasting  covenant,  Jesus  is  the  appointed  Mediator 
between  a  holy  God  and  the  sinner,  who,  possessing  the  hu- 


4  COME  TO  JESUB. 

man  as  well  as  the  divine  nature,  can  "  lay  his  hand  upon 
us  both,"  Job  9  :  33  ;  that  he  alone  is  the  way  to  the  Father, 
and  that  no  man  cometh  to  the  Father  but  by  him,  John 
14  :  6  ;  and  moreover,  that  he  has  received  from  the  Father 
all  saving  g-ifts  for  his  people.     Eph.  4  :  8. 

"  Out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh;" 
and  Mrs.  A.  quoted  from  a  well-stored  mind,  many  pas- 
sages of  Scripture  in  proof  of  her  past  error.  And  the  tears 
which  a  fcAV  minutes  before  indicated  the  anguish  of  an  op- 
pressed spirit,  now  flowed  in  the  channel  of  grateful  and 
peaceful  joy. 

Mr.  K,.  having  commended  her  to  that  Saviour,  that 
redeeming  God,  in  whom  she  now  confided  for  rest,  she 
hastened  home  to  gladden  the  heart  of  her  husband  with 
the  joyous  tidings  of  her  discovery. 

A  short  time  elapsed  before  Mr.  R.  had  an  opportunity 
of  seeing  her  again.  When  he  called  at  her  house,  he  found 
her  "  rejoicing  in  a  reconciled  God  through  Jesus  Christ." 
"  What  have  you  been  doing  with  my  wife,  sir?"  said  her 
grateful  and  happy  husband  ;  "  for  since  she  saw  you,  she  has 
been  quite  another  w^oman.  She  always  used  to  be  going 
about  the  house  sighing  and  mourning,  but  noAV  she  is  sing- 
ing hymns  all  day  long." 

The  recital  of  this  instructive  incident  has  been  blessed 
to  the  conversion  and  comfort  of  more  than  one  individual. 

In  a  village  in  B ,  Mr.  R.,  the  brother  of  this  clergy- 
man, was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  a  poor  woman,  and  read- 
ing the  Scriptures  to  her.  She  received  his  visits  with  but 
little  pleasure,  and  would  often,  as  she  afterwards  confessed, 
feign  herself  "not  at  home,"  when  she  was  aware  of  his 
coming.  On  one  occasion  the  above  narrative  occurred  to 
his  mind,  and  he  related  it  to  her.  She  listened  with  more 
than  usual  attention,  but  gave  no  evidence  of  any  deep  im- 
pression. 

When  Mr.  R.  visited  her  again,  he  noticed  a  marked 
change  in  her  deportment ;  the  cloud  which  had  hitherto 
darkened  her  features  had  been  dispelled,  and  serenity  and 


COME  TO  JESUS.  5 

joy  could  be  traced  upon  her  fine  and  open  countenance. 
"0,  sir,"  she  said,  whilst  tears  filled  her  eyes,  "  I  was  just 
like  that  woman  you  told  me  about  the  other  day.  I  never 
took  my  sins  and  troubles  to  Jesus  till  you  told  me  that  story. 
But  now  I  have  prayed  to  him,  and  found  rest  to  my  soul." 
This  woman,  like  the  first  named,  had  approached  God 
without  relying  on  the  atoning  merits  of  Christ.  So  soon  as 
she  was  led  to  discern  the  God  of  the  Bible,  the  God  who 
pardons  sin  through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  and  who  de- 
hghteth  to  pardon,  her  heart  was  softened,  and  her  con- 
science found  peace.  She  gave  satisfactory  evidence  of  the 
saving  change  wrought  in  her  soul.  She  became  indeed  "  a 
new  creature,"  and  a  consistent  and  humble  follower  of  the 
Lamb.  She  was  enabled,  to  a  remarkable  degree,  to  obey 
the  injunction  given  to  all  true  believers  whose  "  faith  work- 
eth  by  love,"  "  Rejoice  in  the  Lord  alway." 

Having  found  peace  and  happiness  herself,  her  heart  was 
set  upon,  and  yearned  for  the  salvation  of  her  husband.  Her 
prayers  and  labors  on  his  behalf  were  oviTied  of  God,  who 
blessed  her  in  this  "  work  of  faith  and  labor  of  love,"  and 
made  her  the  honored  and  happy  instrument  of  leading  him 
to  the  foot  of  the  cross. 

Another  instance  of  the  blessing  attending  the  narration 

of  this  incident,  occurred  in  the  city  of .     Mr.  R.  was 

asked  by  his  sister,  a  district  visitor,  to  address  a  few  poor 
people  in  a  room  in  which  she  was  accustomed  to  assemble 
them,  and  read  to  them  the  Scriptures.  He  was  informed 
that  a  Roman  Catholic  was  in  the  habit  of  attending ;  but 
he  was  not  aware,  till  afterwards,  that  she  was  one  of  his 
hearers.  The  subject  selected  was  the  parable  of  the  Prodi- 
gal Son,  Luke  15.  He  took  occasion  to  remark,  that  as  the 
prodigal  did  not  go  to  his  father's  servants,  and  ask  them  to 
intercede  for  him,  but  "  arose  and  went  to  his  father"  direct, 
and  found  a  welcome  in  his  bosom  ;  so  the  repenting  and 
returning  sinner  may  go  directly  to  Christ  the  "  one  Media- 
tor between  God  and  men,"  and  will  find,  without  the  in- 
tercession of  the  virgin  Mary  or  any  other  saint,  the  freest 


6  COME  TO  JESUS. 

acceptance  and  the  fullest  pardon.     The  Holy  Spirit  carried 

conviction  to  the  heart  of  Anne  B .     Her  sleep  was 

broken  during  the  following  night.  Her  mind  could  not 
rest,  for  her  sins  pressed  upon  her  conscience. 

A  few  days  after  the  lecture,  Mr.  K,.,  having  been  ap- 
prized that  Anne  B had  been  one  of  his  hearers,  and 

that  she  seemed  impressed  by  what  was  then  said,  called  to 
see  her.  She  occupied  a  small  back  room,  on  a  first  floor, 
and  supported  herself  by  shoe-binding.  She  was  reclining 
on  the  bed  when  Mr.  E-.  entered  the  room,  as  for  some  time 
she  had  been  suffering  from  severe  indisposition.  She 
evinced  much  pleasure  at  seeing  him.  In  directing  her  to 
look  to  Jesus  for  rest,  and  assuring  her  that  no  man  know- 
eth  "  who  the  Father  is,  but  the  Son,  and  he  to  whom  the 
Son  will  reveal  him,"  Luke  10  :  22,  Mr.  R.  related  the  an- 
ecdote of  the  coachmaker's  wife.  His  visit  was  short,  and 
he  left  her  with  but  little  encouragement  that  the  truth  had 
entered  her  soul. 

A  second  visit,  however,  proved  that  the  word  of  the 
Lord  had  not  returned  unto  him  void,  but  had  prospered  in 
the  thing  whereto  he  sent  it.  "  0,  sir,"  she  exclaimed, 
whilst  her  pallid  countenance  flushed  with  joy,  "  my  lips 
were  sealed  when  you  came  here  before.  I  was  just  like  the 
coachmaker's  wife.     I  could  not  sleep  during  the  night,  and 

1  rose  three  times  and  prayed,  not  to  the  virgin,  as  I  used  to 
do,  but  to  God ;  yet  I  did  not  then  find  comfort,  for  I  over- 
looked Jesus  Christ  as  the  way  to  the  Father.  But  since  you 
told  me  that  story,  and  directed  me  to  Jesus,  to  God  giving 
his  Son  to  die  for  sinners,  I  have  found  peace." 

Peace  Anne  B had  evidently  found.     It  reigned  in 

her  heart,  and  did  not  forsake  her  to  the  day  of  her  death. 
She  had  found  that  "  God  was  in  Christ,  reconciling  the 
world  unto  himself,  not  imputing  their  trespasses  unto  them." 

2  Cor.  5:19.  Her  illness  increased,  and  her  sufferings  were 
great,  but  her  consolations  were  greater.  Her  placid  coun- 
tenance indicated  the  peace  of  her  miind.  She  was  not  only 
a  monument  of  grace,  but  an  example  of  patience  and  meek- 
ness.    A  visit  to  her  bedside  was  both  refreshing  and  edify- 


COME  TO  JESUS.  7 

ing.  She  seemed  to  recline,  like  the  disciple  whom  Jesus 
loved,  on  her  Saviour's  bosom.  She  lingered  a  few  months, 
and  after  having  given  satisfactory  evidence  of  the  saving 
change  wrought  in  her  heart,  she  fell  asleep  in  Jesus 

Let  me  ask  the  reader,  "What  have  you  done  with  your 
sins  ?  To  whom  have  you  carried  them  ?  Have  you  ac- 
cepted Christ's  gracious  invitation,  "  Come  unto  me,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest."  In  vain  will  you  seek  saving  and  abid- 
ing rest  till  you  come  unto  him.  Let  the  following  reasons 
convince  you  of  this. 

1 .  God  the  Father  has  committed  to  the  Son  all  "  power," 
Matt.  28  :  18  ;  all  "  grace,"  John  1  :  16,  compared  with  Col. 
1:19;  all  pardon.  Matt.  1:21;  John  5  :  22,  23  ;  all  sal- 
vation. John  1  :  12.  He  has  treasured  up  "  all  things," 
even  the  knowledge  of  himself,  in  Jesus.  Matt.  11  :  27.  And 
as  Pharaoh  directed  the  famishing  Egyptians  to  go  to  Joseph, 
to  whom  he  had  committed  the  storehouses  of  corn ;  so  the 
Father  directs  all  who  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness 
to  go  to  Jesus,  to  whom  he  has  committed  the  treasures  of 
grace.  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,"  he  said,  when  his  voice 
was  heard  out  of  the  cloud  on  the  mount  of  transfiguration, 
"  This  is  my  beloved  Son  ;  hear  ye  him."  You  will,  there- 
fore, obey  and  honor  the  Father,  John  5  :  23,  by  obeying  and 
honoring  the  Son  ;  by  hearing  his  voice,  and  accepting  his 
invitation,  "  Come  unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

2.  The  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  purchased  by  the  blood, 
and  bestowed  by  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  John  15  :  26. 
The  Father  sends  him  to  regenerate  and  dwell  in  the  hearts 
of  his  people  in  the  name  of  his  Son,  John  14  :  26.  He 
comes  only  in  the  name  of  Jesus  ;  he  does  not  speak  of  him- 
self, but  reveals  the  fulness  and  sufficiency  of  Jesus  ;  his 
things  only  he  takes,  and  shows  unto  his  people.  John 
16:7-15. 

Has  the  Holy  Spirit  revealed  the  Lord  Jesus  to  you  as 
the  source  of  all  rest,  and  the  fountain  of  all  peace  ?  Has 
he  led  you  by  his  gentle  influences  to  the  cross,  and  there 
enabled  vou  to  repent  of  your  sins,  to  unburden  your  soul, 


8  COME  TO  JESUS. 


and  to  close  with  the  gracious  ofier,  "  Come  unto  me,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest  ?" 

3.  Jesus  himself  has  given  many  great  and  precious 
promises  of"  rest  to  all  who  come  to  him.  "  The  testimony 
of  Jesus  is  the  spirit  of  prophecy,"  Rev.  19  :  10  ;  and  the 
Scriptures  bear  full  testimony  to  his  power,  grace,  and  suffi- 
ciency. He  quickens  dead  souls.  John  5  :  21,  25.  He 
cleanses  them  from  all  sin.  Isa.  1:16;  1  John,  1:7.  He 
robes  them  in  spotless  righteousness.  Jer.  23  :  6.  He  gives 
light.  John  1  :  9.  He  refreshes.  John  6  :  35  ;  7  :  37,  38. 
He  strengthens.  2  Cor.  12  :  9.  He  preserves.  John  10  :  27, 
28.  He  gives  saving  rest  here,  and  an  "  eternal  weight  of 
glory"  hereafter.     2  Cor.  4  :  17. 

Come,  then,  fellow-sinner,  to  Jesus.  "And  the  Spirit 
and  the  bride  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  heareth  say. 
Come.  And  let  him  that  is  athirst  come.  And  whosoever 
will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely."  Rev.  22  :  17. 
Come,  bring  all  your  sins,  doubts,  fears,  and  cares  to  him. 
Diligently  and  prayerfully  use  all ;  but  do  not  stay  thy  soul 
upon  any  of  the  means  of  grace.  Means  are  only  means — 
Jesus  is  all  in  all.  Cast  your  heavy  burden  upon  him.  He 
will  receive  you.  He  rejects  none  who  truly  and  sincerely 
come  to  him.  John  6  :37.  Arise,  and  come  then  at  once 
to  him,  leaning  upon  his  infallible  word,  "  Come  unto  me, 
all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of  me  ;  for  I  am 
meek  and  lowly  in  heart ;  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your 
souls.  For  my  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is  light."  Matt. 
11  : 28-30. 


PUBLISH F.D    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


]Vo.  364. 

HOW  TO  MAKE 
THE  MOST  OF  LIFE. 


On  this  winged  hour  eternity  depends.  Both  the  kind 
and  degree  of  eternal  retribution  will  be  determined  by 
present  conduct :  "  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall 
he  also  reap,"     How  then  shall  a  man  make  the  most  of  life  ? 

Know  yourself.  Self-knowledge  is  first  in  order.  The 
prodigal  first  "came  to  himself,"  and  then  to  his  father. 
The  royal  Psalmist  says,  "  I  thought  on  my  ways,  and  turned 
my  feet  unto  thy  testimonies."  If  you  would  gain  correct 
knowledge  of  yourself,  you  must  receive  the  Scriptural 
account  of  human  nature  as  true  of  you. 

Know  God.  He  maintains  your  fife.  From  him  all 
goodness  flows.  To  know  him  as  revealed  in  Christ  Jesus, 
is  eternal  life  begun  on  earth.  "  Acquaint  thyself  with  him, 
and  be  at  peace ;  thereby  good  shall  come  unto  thee."  Honor 
the  Son,  even  as  you  honor  the  Father.  Receive  the  Holy 
Ghost.  To  the  sacred  Three  in  One  consecrate  all  you 
have,  and  are,  and  hope  for. 

Devote  your  life  to  doing  good.  Your  obligations 
to  usefulness  are  perpetual,  indissoluble,  and  mighty.  Noth- 
ing can  remit  them.  They  result  from  your  nature,  and 
your  relations  to  God  and  man.     In  doing  good, 

Discern  the  nature  of  things.  Make  a  careful  selec- 
tion. Squander  nothing  on  unworthy  objects,  or  in  unwor- 
thy pursuits.     Learn  to  judge  of  both  men  and  things. 

Watch  for  opportunities.  Henry  Martyn,  with  all 
his  zeal,  says  he  lost,  through  inattention,  the  best  oppor- 
tunity of  usefulness  which  he  had  for  many  months  in  India. 
*' Oh  that  our  heads  were  waters,"  exclaims  Cotton  Mather, 
"  because  they  have  been  so  dry  of  all  thoughts  to  do  good. 
Oh  that  our  eyes  were  a  fountain  of  tears,  because  they 
have  looked  so  little  for  occasions  to  do  good,"  "As  we 
liave  therefore  o-pijortunity ,  let  us  do  good  unto  all  men." 

Let  your  ability  be  the  rule  of  your  efforts.  "  Get 
all  you  can,  save  all  you  can,  give  all  you  can,"  do  all  you 
can.     "If  there  be  first  a  willing  mind,  it  is  accepted  ao 

VOL.   X.  9 


HOW  TO  MAKE  THE  MOST  OF  LIFE. 


cording  to  what  a  man  hatli,  and  not  according  to  what  he 
hath  not."  "Withhold  not  good  from  them  to  whom  it  is 
due,  when  it  is  in  the  power  of  thy  hand  to  do  it." 

Never  quit  certainty  for  hope.  Never  abandon  a 
sure  way  of  doing  good  for  some  doubtful  scheme.  Con- 
form your  plans  to  the  rules  of  God's  providence,  and  the 
dictates  of  a  sober  mind.  Beware  of  the  habit  of  originat- 
ing devices  which  you  do  not  intend  to  execute. 

Persevere.  When  you  have  made  a  good  beginning, 
do  not  think  the  work  done.  Call  not  a  commencement  the 
completion.  *'Let  not  him  that  girdeth  on  the  harness 
boast  himself  as  he  that  putteth  it  off."  Have  ''long  pa- 
tience," and  you  shall  have  "precious  fruits." 

Be  impartial.  Never  favor  one  good  cause  or  object 
of  charity  to  the  prejudice  of  another.  It  was  a  shame  for 
the  early  Christians  to  wrangle  about  the  comparative  merits 
of  Paul,  Apollos,  and  Cephas.  They  all  had  excellent  gifts 
and  more  excellent  graces.  'Tis  a  mark  of  folly,  yea,  it  is 
a  sin  to  undervalue  objects  merely  because  we  are  not  en- 
gaged in  promoting  them.  Therefore  encourage  whatever 
promises  substantial  good. 

Defer  not.  To  assiijn  to  the  future  what  God  assio-ns 
to  the  present,  is  very  hazardous.  One  would  not  give  an}'' 
until  he  could  give  a  large  sum :  when  he  had  a  large  part 
of  the  desired  sum,  he  lost  it  by  fire.  Another  deferred, 
for  one  hour,  a  warning  which  he  intended  to  give  an  un- 
converted friend :  at  the  end  of  the  hour,  the  unconverted 
man  was  in  eternity.  "  Say  not  unto  thy  neighbor,  Go,  and 
come  again,  and  to-morrow  I  will  give,  when  thou  hast  it 
by  thee."     To-morrow  is  not  thine. 

Act  from  principle.  What  you  do,  do  not  from  per- 
suasion, or  fancy,  or  ostentation,  or  to  avoid  importunity. 
You  have  a  rational  soul.  Make  use  of  it.  Be  fully  per- 
suaded and  firmly  established  in  good  princqdes. 

Live  by  rule.  Be  systematic  in  your  charities  and 
efforts.  If  there  be  irregularity  in  your  life,  let  it  come 
from  the  overflowings  of  your  benevolence  breaking  over  a 
well- constructed  system  of  usefulness. 

Be  hearty  in  all  your  labors.  Let  not  your  head, 
and  hands,  and  tongue  be  busy,  and  your  heart  idle.  Re- 
sults by  their  greatness  will  surprise  the  truly  engaged, 
while  the  double-minded  will  wonder  that  so  little  good  is 


HOW  TO  MAKE  THE  MOST  OF  LIFE.  3 

done.  When  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  went  up  rapidly,  it 
was  because  "  the  people  had  a  mind  to  build."  "  The 
sluo-orard  desireth,  and  hath  nothincr." 

Enlist  others,  "  Iron  sharpeneth  iron ;  so  a  man  sharp- 
eneth  the  countenance  of  his  friend."  "Two  are  better 
than  one."  "  Woe  to  him  that  is  alone  when  he  falleth."  "  A 
threefold  cord  is  not  quickly  broken."  "  One  shall  chase  a 
thousand,  and  tioo  shall  put  ten  thousand  to  flight."  De- 
spise not  the  services  of  any  in  their  appropriate  sphere.  A 
little  captive  maid  knew  more  about  the  man  of  God  in 
Palestine,  than  did  the  king  of  Israel,  and  was  the  means 
of  savinsc  her  master  Naaman. 

Especially  enlist  God.  His  foolishness  is  wiser  than 
men,  and  his  weakness  is  stronger  than  men.  He  charges 
his  angels  with  folly.  His  word  is  power.  His  will  is  vic- 
tory. He  makes  the  feeble  like  David,  and  David  like  the 
angel  of  God.  "Except  the  Lord  build  the  house,  they 
labor  in  vain  that  build  it."  He  who  prays  aright,  wins  the 
heart  that  wields  the  arm  that  moves  the  world. 

Be  determined.  Timidity  aAvakens  opposition  from  the 
cowardly.  Men  will  not  rally  around  him  whose  heart  is 
not  fixed.  But  let  a  man  himself  be  intrepid  and  unwaver- 
ing, and  his  friends  will  be ;  and  difficulty  will  vanish. 

Aim  high.  Desire  great  things,  meditate  great  things, 
attempt  great  things  ;  then  let  your  eflforts  correspond,  and, 
with  God's  blessing,  you  will  accomplish  great  things.  Yet 
undertake  not  too  much.  Be  not  grasping  after  things  be- 
yond your  reach,  or  above  your  strength. 

Be  mindful  of  little  things.  Nothing  is  of  little  im- 
portance Avhich  possesses,  even  in  its  results,  the  attribute 
of  eternity.  Despise  not  the  day  of  small  things.  "  Sands 
form  the  mountains,  minutes  make  the  year." 

•  Spare  not  thyself.  The  greatest  good  is  only  accom- 
plished by  the  greatest  pains.  "  He  that  soweth  sparingly, 
shall  reap  also  sparingly ;  and  he  that  soweth  bountifully, 
shall  reap  also  bountifully." 

Maintain  cheerfulness.  The  demon  of  melancholy 
unnerves  religious  effort.  Be  joyful  in  the  Lord ;  for  the 
joy  of  the  Lord  is  strength.  Rarely  will  you  find  a  better 
motto  than  this  :    "  Serve  God,  and  be  cheerful^ 

Be  of  good  courage.  In  the  Christian  course,  coward- 
ice alone  is  the  loss  of  nearly  every  victory.     It  is  needless, 


4  HOW  TO  MAKE  THE  MOST  OF  LIFE. 

it  is  wicked.  "The  voice  that  rolls  the  stars  along,  spake 
all  the  promises." 

Be  not  faithless.  Have  faith  in  God.  The  greatest 
good  is  generally  done  in  the  face  of  the  greatest  discour- 
agements. It  was  a  saying  of  Andrew  Fuller,  "  Only  let 
us  have  faith  in  God,  and  we  shall  not  lack  the  means  of 
doing  good."  "Lord,  increase  our  faith,"  is  perhaps  the 
best  prayer  the  disciples  offered  during  Christ's  ministry  on 
earth. 

Hope  against  hope.  Nothing  is  too  hard  for  God. 
Eliot  used  to  say,  "  Prayer  and  pains,  through  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ,  can  accomplish  any  purpose."  Paul  said,  "I  can 
do  all  things  through  Christ  which  strengtheneth  me." 

Let  your  charity  abound.  Be  it  your  meat  and  your 
drink  to  do  good. 

"  Wouldst  thou  from  sorrow  find  a  sweet  relief? 

Or  is  thy  heart  oppressed  with  woes  untold  ? 
Balm  wouldst  thou  gatlier  for  corroding  grief  .-^ 

Pour  blessings  round  thee  like  a  shower  of  gold. 
'Tis  when  the  rose  is  wrapt  in  many  a  fold, 

Close  to  its  heart  the  worm  is  wasting  there 
Its  life  and  beauty :  not  wlien  all  unrolled, 

Leaf  after  leaf,  its  blossom  rich  and  fair 
Breathes  freely  its  perfumes  throughout  the  ambient  air." 

Be  humble.  "  When  you  have  done  all,  acknowledge 
that  you  are  nothing,  that  you  deserve  nothing,  and  that 
God  has  a  right  to  do  Avith  you  as  seems  good  to  him."  If 
you  attain  or  accomplish  any  thing,  say,  "  It  was  not  I,  but 
the  grace  of  God." 

Never  forget  the  judgment-day.  Keep  it  always  in 
view.  Frame  every  action  in  reference  to  its  unchanging 
decisions. 

And  now  may  you  be  blessed  of  God,  who  "  is  able  to 
make  all  grace  abound  towards  you ;  that  you,  always  hav- 
ing all  sufficiency  in  all  things,  may  abound  to  every  good 
work;  being  enriched  in  every  thing  to  all  bountifulness, 
which  causeth,"  through  the  saints,  "  thanksgiving  to  God." 
Thus  shall  you  make  the  most  of  life. 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


j¥o.  3Co. 


THE 


ISLAND    PLANTER. 


AN  AUTHENTIC  NARRATIVE. 


A  LITTLE  isLind  at  the  south  designates  the  late  residence 

of  J M ,  a  man  of  integrity  and  influence,  kind, 

amiable,  and  afl:ectionate,  but  radically  hostile  to  the  relig- 
ion of  Christ.  He  had  accumulated  a  handsome  estate,  and, 
though  past  the  meridian  of  life,  was  intent  on  still  more 
splendid  accessions.  He  neglected  all  the  ordinances  of 
religion,  and  habitually  desecrated  the  Sabbath,  yet  he 
would  not  interfere  with  the  religion  of  others ;  he  allowed 
members  of  his  family  to  unite  with  the  church,  and  even 
contributed  to  the  support  of  the  Gospel,  though  he  put 
not  himself  in  the  way  of  having  its  truths  impressed  upon 
his  own  heart. 

No  occurrence  had  awakened  into  vigorous  action  his 
hostility  to  vital  religion,  till  at  length  some  of  his  early  and 
familiar  associates  were  arrested  by  the  power  of  divine 
truth,  and  took  sanctuary  in  the  blood  of  atonement.  The 
effect  of  this  entire  revolution  in  their  whole  character,  in- 
stead of  leading  him  to  consideration,  was  rather  to  harden 
his  heart  and  give  viperous  expression  to  its  latent  enmity. 
At  times  he  affected  pity  for  their  delusion,  and  then  again, 
contempt  for  their  hypocrisy.  And  when  they  drew  near, 
as  new  converts  are  wont  to  approach  their  former  asso- 
ciates, with  the  tender  of  salvation,  he  indignantly  repelled 
the  overtures  of  mercy,  and  gave  those  who  bore  them,  dis- 
tinctly to  learn,  that  they  must  not  confer  with  him  upon 
this  hated  subject.  From  their  knowledge  of  his  character, 
rather  than  goad  to  madness  the  already  enraged  opposer 
of  Christ,  they  thought  it  better  to  let  him  alone,  and  pour 
out  their  continual  prayer  on  his  behalf  in  the  ear  of  Him 
in  whose  hands  are  the  hearts  of  all,  that  he  might  manifest 

VOL.  X.  9* 


2  THE  ISLAND  PLANTER. 

the  exceeding  riches  of  his  grace  in  the  salvation  of  their 
neighbor  and  their  friend. 

Meanwhile  his  spirit  was  troubled.  The  conflict  within 
was  severe  and  increasing.  Conscience  woke  up  with  energy, 
and  broke  his  rest.  The  enmity  of  his  heart,  which  had  till 
now  been  under  partial  restraint  and  smothered  by  a  worldly 
spirit,  put  on  a  giant's  strength,  and  assailed  the  church 
with  which  his  former  associates  had  united.  That  church 
was  now  the  Mordecai  in  the  king's  gate  Avhich  excited  his 
wrath,  and  drove  him  to  a  desperate  resolve.  But  instead 
of  warring  against  it  by  direct  attack,  he  confederated  with 
others  in  the  establishment  of  another  church- — a  church 
which  he  had  never  attended,  and  for  which  he  had  neither 
partiality  nor  affection..  His  object  was  to  "divide  and 
conquer ;"  to  weaken  the  society,  which,  united,  could 
barely  sustain  the  regular  administration  of  the  Gospel,  and 
thus  effect  the  removal  of  the  pastor  through  whose  instru- 
mentality the  church  had  been  gathered ;  anticipating,  as 
the  ultimate  result,  the  total  dispersion  of  the  flock.  The 
edifice  was  erected  under  his  superintendence.  He  "lav- 
ished gold  out  of  the  bag"  to  complete  it,  and  when  finished, 
he  abandoned  the  spot,  lest  there  also  he  should  hear  the 
hated  doctrines  of  the  cross. 

It  had  been  his  previous  custom  to  be  present  on  fu- 
neral occasions.  But  these  at  length  brought  him  so  fre- 
quently into  contact  with  the  truth  of  God,  as  to  be  past 
endurance.  When  his  neighbors  fell  around  him,  and  the 
sympathizing  group,  with  the  officiating  minister,  assembled 
in  the  house  of  mourning,  he  could  no  longer  join  in  the 
affecting  solemnity,  but  hastened  to  his  farms  and  drowned 
reflection  by  plunging  deeper  than  ever  into  worldly  pur- 
suits. But  God  sent  his  plagues  still  nearer.  Death  en- 
tered his  own  habitation  at  the  successive  intervals  of  a 
year,  till  four  of  his  children,  three  having  been  committed 
to  the  dust  at  an  earlier  period,  expired  in  his  arms.  And 
thus  did  decency  compel  him  to  hear  the  Gospel  once  a 
year  at  funerals  in  his  own  house.  While  he  mourned  his 
dead,  the  living  appeared  more  lovely  than  before,  and  he 
clung  to  them  with  still  stronger  affection.  The  last  of  the 
four  was  an  only  daughter,  now  near  the  stature  of  woman- 
hood, and  possessing  those  attractions  which  render  a  bloom- 
ing daughter,  in   the   eyes  of  a  doting  father,  something 


THE  ISLAND  PLANTER. 


approaching  the  angelic.  When  she  sickened,  rebelUous 
murmurings  struggled  within  him,  and  in  broken  accents 
trembled  upon  his  lips.  But  when  death  came,  he  had 
some  misgivings,  under  the  impression  that  God  had  been 
dealing  with  him  in  judgment — in  terrible  judgment,  for 
his  contempt  of  the  Gospel. 

But  the  shock  thus  given  to  his  unbelief  became  still 
more  severe,  when  at  length  a  pious  neighbor,  in  whom,  as 
a  physician  and  friend,  he  had  great  confidence,  Avas  laid 
upon  a  bed  of  death.  This  physician  had  been  the  associate 
of  his  earlier  years,  and  was  one  of  those  who  sought  in 
vain  to  present  to  his  mind  that  blessed  truth  which  had 
proved  effectual  in  his  own  salvation.  When  he  heard  that 
his  friend  ''was  sick  nigh  unto  death,"  he  came  not  into 

"  The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate," 

that  privileged  spot,  "  quite  on  the  verge  of  heaven,"  but 
sent  to  inquire  his  views  on  nearing  the  judgment.  From 
the  messenger  to  whom  he  had  given  this  commission,  he 
ascertained  that  hope  brightened  as  death  approached, 
that  the  terror  of  the  grave  had  fled  apace,  and  that  with 
feeble  but  joyous  accents  he  could  employ  his  expiring 
breath  in  singing, 

"  Hallelujah  to  the  Lamb 
Who  hath  purchased  my  pardon." 

When  J M heard  this  affecting  narrative,  he 

mused  for  a  while  in  deep  and  troubled  thought,  and  then 
exclaimed  with  unwonted  energy,  "Let  me  die  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his."  An  arrow 
was  now  deeply  lodged  in  his  heart,  and  like  a  stricken 
deer  he  pined  in  solitude,  his  flesh  wasting  away  and  his 
strength  becoming  feeble  as  infancy.  When  he  said,  ''My 
bed  shall  comfort  me,  my  couch  shall  ease  my  complaint," 
Job  7  :  13,  he  was  constrained  to  add,  "Then  thou 
scarest  me  with  dreams,  and  terrifiest  me  through  visions ; 
so  that  my  soul  chooseth  strangling,  and  death  rather  than 
my  life."  Believing  that  he  had  committed  the  unpardonable 
sin,  often  did  he  say,  "  the  harvest  is  past,  and  the  summer 
is  ended ;"  and  full  often  did  the  fiery  darts  of  the  tempt- 
er pierce  him  in  his  master- passion,  his  love  of  wealth ; 


4  THE  ISLAND  PLANTER. 

producing,  in  a  state  of  high  prosperity,  the  dread  of  im- 
pending Avant. 

A  poor  maniac  one  day,  who  had  escaped  from  a  neigh- 
boring asylum,  strayed  in  vacancy  of  thought  near  his  hab- 
itation. A  summer's  sun  was  beaming  on  his  bare  head, 
and  his  uncombed  locks  were  sporting  in  the  breeze.  The 
sight  of  an  object  so  pitiable,  with  a  visage  excessively 
haggard,  and  with  a  gait,  and  gesture,  and  attire  that  told 

his  ruin,  deeply  affected  J M ,  and  made  him  tremble 

in  every  joint.  To  one  standing  near  he  said,  with  terrible 
emphasis,  pointing  to  the  maniac,  "  There,  there  is  my  image. 
But  mine  is  the  deeper  misery — ruin  within,  ruin  around, 
and  endless  ruin  in  prospect."  It  was  fearful  to  mark  the 
horror  displayed  in  bis  countenance,  and  attitude,  and  voice. 
His  pious  wife,  feeling  all  his  wretchedness,  attempted  in 
vain  to  console  him.  His  Christian  friends,  sympathizing  in 
his  anguish,  pointed  him  to  the  hopes  of  the  Gospel,  but 
with  no  effect.  When  told  that  with  God  there  is  mercy, 
he  responded  with  amazing  emphasis,  ''With  God  there 
was  mercy ;  but  now  it  is  hid  from  mine  eyes.  Twelve 
YEARS  AGO  I  might  have  repented — I  might  have  believed  ; 
but  now,  alas,  all  hope  is  gone.     I  am  lost — lost  for  ever." 

Why  he  fixed  upon  "  twelve  years  ago"  as  the  period 
of  mercy,  I  could  not  ascertain.  He  doubtless  referred  to 
some  conviction,  some  warning,  some  peculiar  impression 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon  his  heart,  which  he  then  efiectually 
resisted  and  subdued.  Ah,  how  many  now  in  hell,  and 
how  many  on  their  way  thither,  will  look  back  to  some 
awful  "  twelve  years  ago,"  or  to  some  other  remembered 
period,  and  wail  out  the  hopeless  lamentation,  "  I  might 
have  been  saved  ;  for  to  me  the  Gospel  was  offered — freely, 
fully,  affectionately,  and  sincerely  offered  ;  but  I  deferred 
accepting  the  gracious  tender.  I  slighted  the  counsel  of 
God ;  I  rejected,  often  and  agaiji,  the  only  terms  of  salva- 
tion ;  and  now  I  have  exchanged  for  ever  the  hope  of  heaven 
for  the  agonies  of  despair !"  Will  the  reader  pause  a 
moment  to  inquire  whether  he  did  not,  some  twelve  years 
ago,  quench  the  Spirit.  Mercy  slighted,  how  bitter  !  It  stings 
as  the  scorpion — it  bites  as  the  adder — it  is  "  hell  moving 
beneath  to  meet  them  at  their  coming !" 

While  in  this  state  of  terrible  conflict,  a  kind  minister, 
whose  praise  is  in  all  the  churches,  came  in  to  help  gather 


THE  ISLAND  I'LANTER. 


the  perishing  harvest.     On  his  arrival,  the  friends  of  J 

M resolved,  if  possible,  to  bring  him  to  the  sanctuary 

of  God.  "It  may  be,"  said  they,  "  that  the  waters  of  the 
pool  will  be  troubled  by  the  angel  of  the  covenant."  In 
the  very  spirit  of  the  men  who  once  let  down  a  paralytic 
through  the  tiling,  Luke  5  :  19,  with  much  entreaty  they 
brought  him  to  the  threshold  of  the  sanctuary,  where  he 
lingered,  and  for  a  while  resisted  every  motive  to  proceed. 
A's  one  in  terrible  apprehension  of  danger  pauses  and  trem- 
bles and  grows  pale,  so  he,  riveted  to  the  spot,  shook  with 
terror,  and  a  deadly  paleness  mantled  his  visage.  At  length 
they  caused  him  to  be  seated  in  the  assembly  of  worship- 
pers, where  he  felt  as  a  fallen  angel  amid  the  sons  of  light, 
"damned,  but  not  destroyed."  For  a  while  he  listened 
with  fixed  attention  to  the  preacher's  voice,  but  it  aggra- 
vated rather  than  assuaged  the  anguish  of  his  soul.  There 
was  nothing  to  console  him  in  the  provisions  of  a  rejected 
Gospel.  His  distress,  already  verging  on  despair,  was  now 
awakened  to  still  keener  intensity,  with  no  other  prospect 
before  him  but  the  "  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment."  And 
when  he  quit  the  house,  which  he  did  in  the  midst  of  the 
services,  it  was  with  the  determined  resolution  never  again 
to  expose  himself  to  the  searching  appeals  of  divine  truth. 
Weeks  and  months  passed  away,  leaving  him  still  in  this 
state  of  unalleviated  wretchedness.  When  assured  that 
God  was  merciful,  and  could  forgive — that  Christ  had  died 
for  sinners,  even  the  chief,  and  that  none  were  too  guilty  to 
be  pardoned,  he  was  wont  to  reply,  "  Others  can  be  for- 
given, but  to  me  is  reserved  the  blackness  of  darkness.  For 
others  there  is  hope,  but  my  day  of  grace  has  closed — my 
sun  has  set  in  everlastino-  nio-ht." 

An  incident  now  occurred  which  throws  light  as  well 
upon  his  general  character  as  upon  the  peculiar  state  of  his 
mind.  A  female  friend,  *'a  mother  in  Israel,"  had  selected, 
as  a  balm  for  his  wounded  spirit,  a  little  Tract  which  de- 
scribed the  case  of  an  unbeliever  who  was  neither  the  kind 
husband,  nor  the  affectionate  father,  nor  the  faithful  friend ; 
who  neither  attended  the  sanctuary  himself,  nor  suffered  his 
family  to  attend  ;  and  yet,  notwithstanding  his  outbreaking 
hostility  to  the  cross  of  Christ,  became  at  length  a  rich 
trophy  of  grace,  and  spent  the  residue  of  his  days  a  con- 
sistent, humble,  and  happy  Christian.     When  she  read  that 


6  THE  ISLAND  PLANTER. 

part  of  the  narrative  where  its  subject  was  described  as 
playing  the  tyrant  in  his  house,  and  shutting  up  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  from  his  family,  he  cried,  "  It  is  not  I !  It  is  not 
I !  That  I  never  did — no,  never.  Did  I,  E ?"  address- 
ing his  wife.  "  Did  I  ever  prevent  your  going  to  the  house 
of  God  ?  No,  never  did  I.  Thank  God,  this  is  not  num- 
bered among  my  manifold  offences."  And  it  was  true, 
otherwise  his  anguish  had  perhaps  been  past  endurance. 

About  a  year  after  he  was  first  awakened,  on  an  occa- 
sion when  the  thronging  multitudes  assembled  around  the 
man  of  God  in  the  open  field,  he  was  again  prevailed  upon 
to  attend.  And  it  is  a  delightful  thought,  that  the  promise 
of  God  to  be  with  his  people,  respects  alike  "the  broad 
waste"  and  "the  city  full" — when  assembled  under  the 
arched  canopy  of  heaven,  or  in  a  consecrated  temple.  His 
blessing  is  not  confined  to  place,  nor  circumstance,  nor  form. 
Wherever  he  is  worshipped  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  is  the 
temple  where  his  power  and  glory  are  displayed.  Here 
again  he  heard  the  voice  of  the  living  herald  publishing 
salvation ;  but  to  him  it  seemed  louder  than  ever  a  mes- 
sage of  wrath — "a  savor  of  death  unto  death."  He  was 
overwhelmed  by  the  pressure  of  truth  upon  his  soul.  Still, 
incessant  supplication  was  offered  on  his  behalf.  He  was 
pointed  to  the  bleeding  Lamb — to  his  sufferings  in  the  gar- 
den, and  his  agonies  on  the  cross ;  and  especially  was  he 
reminded,  that  however  intense  his  anguish,  or  insupportable 
his  grief,  there  was  still  One  able  and  willing  to  save,  who 
had  been  "  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  being 
in  all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin."  This 
was  tidings  which,  till  now,  he  could  not  understand.  He 
seemed  never  before  to  have  heard  of  the  Saviour's  tempta- 
tion and  of  the  Saviour's  agony.  Now,  for  the  first  time, 
the  voice  that  published  salvation  was  lovely — sweet  to  his 
ear  as  angel  music.  And  though  only  a  single  ray  of  mercy 
was  let  into  his  soul,  just  enough  to  render  heavenly  things 
indistinctly  perceptible,  it  was  the  bearer  of  relief,  0  how 
amazing !  of  consolation,  0  how  unspeakable !  It  lighted 
up  his  face  with  a  smile — the  first  smile  that  had  played 
upon  his  lips  for  a  score  of  months — a  smile  indicative  of 
joy  within,  tranquil,  not  transporting;  calm,  not  ecstatic. 
And  from  that  time  forth  he  has  indulged  the  "  hope  that 
maketh  not  ashamed,"  and  that  has  increased  in  brightness. 


THE  ISLAND  PLANTER.  7 

In  his  distress,  he  had  feared  that  God  could  not  forgive, 
and  that  his  Christian  friends  could  not  forgive ;  but  now 
he  knew,  from  the  testimony  of  his  own  conscience,  that 
there  is,  in  very  deed,  forgiveness  with  God  for  the  chief  of 
sinners,  himself  the  chief;  and  that  they  who  had  the  Spirit 
of  Christ,  could  also  forgive.  With  him  old  things  had 
passed  away ;  and  "  Lo,  I  make  all  things  new,"  was  a 
precious  truth,  the  import  of  which  he  could  realize  in  liis 
blessed  transition  from  darkness  to  light.  Nor  did  he  fail 
to  ascribe  to  the  unspeakable  riches  of  grace  his  Avondrous 
deliverance — to  him  more  wondrous  than  to  those  who  had 
witnessed  the  power  of  God  in  plucking  such  a  brand  from 
the  burning.  Need  I  add  as  the  result,  that  there  was  joy 
in  his  family,  in  the  chu.rch,  and  among  the  angels  of  God. 

Still,  he  had  his  trials  and  his  conflicts ;  nor  was  it  till 
months  after  he  had  indulged  the  hope  of  forgiveness,  and 
manifested  in  his  conduct  a  childlike  docility,  that  he  could 
venture  to  take  the  place  of  a  professed  believer  in  the 
church  of  God,  because,  in  his  own  estimation,  he  was  so 
much  less  than  the  least  of  all  saints  as  to  debar  him  from 
the  privilege.  But  at  length,  by  the  grace  that  bringeth 
salvation,  he  received  strength  to  come  out  from  the  world, 
and  avouch  the  Lord  Jehovah  his  covenant  God :  he  has 
since  been  growing  in  grace  and  the  knowledge  of  Christ ; 
giving  by  his  conduct,  as  well  as  by  his  lips,  most  unequivo- 
cal evidence  that  he  has  passed  from  death  to  life. 

So  have  we  seen  the  enraged  beast  of  prey  held  in  vexa- 
tious restraints,  till  at  length  he  crouched  tamely  at  the  feet 
of  his  master.  And  so  the  time  will  assuredly  come  when, 
there  being  nothing  to  hurt  or  destroy  in  all  the  holy  moun- 
tain of  the  Lord,  "the  wolf  shall  dwell  with  the  lamb,  and 
the  leopard  shall  lie  down  with  the  kid ;  and  the  calf  and 
the  young  lion  and  the  fatling  together." 

Would  it  were  with  all  as  with  the  subject  of  this  nar- 
rative. But,  ah,  how  many  copy  his  rebellion,  but  not  his 
repentance !  How  many  refrain  from  the  sanctuary  of  God, 
and  desecrate  his  Sabbath,  and  grasp  the  world  with  insa- 
tiable eagerness,  without  suspecting  that  they  are  "  treas- 
uring up  to  themselves  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath  !" 

How  few  who  pass  the  awful  meridian  of  life  in  unbelief, 
are  ever  brouglU  to  see,  confess,  and  forsake  their  sins !  A 
conversion  at  fiftv  is  a  rare  event. 


8  THE  ISLAND  PLANTER. 

The  forbearance  of  God,  how  amazing!  That  sinners 
are  suffered  to  hve,  what  a  wonder ;  and  hve  when,  year 
after  year,  they  have  rejected  the  Gospel !  But  it  furnishes 
an  exhibition  of  the  endurance  of  God  towards  those  who 
perish,  and  of  the  exceeding  riches  of  his  grace  in  them 
that  are  saved. 

The  remembrance  of  past  mercies  slighted  and  trampled 
on,  what  pungent  reflections  does  it  awaken  !  What  remorse 
accompanies  the  thought,  that  years  ago  I  might  have  been 
saved !  Let  the  reader  who  has  hitherto  resisted  the  striv- 
ings of  the  Spirit,  be  spared,  0  God  of  mercy,  from  the 
deep  damnation  of  interminable  remorse.  Give  him  repent- 
ance now,  even  now,  before  thy  mercies  are  clean  gone  for 
ever. 

How  manifest  that  infidelity  is  generally  the  result  of 
disobedience  to  the  divine  injunctions  !  It  was  to  justify 
himself  for  his  worldly  spirit,  and  for  the  desecration  of  the 
Sabbath,  that  J M became  an  infidel.  And  infi- 
delity and  some  prominent  vice  are  usually  in  close  and 
wedded  connection. 

What  a  blessing,  when  a  sinner  is  the  subject  of  Chris- 
tian solicitude !   J M would  most  probably  have 

perished,  had  not  a  pious  wife  and  pious  neighbors  hedged 
up  his  way  to  ruin,  grappled  him  as  in  a  death- struQ^^le, 
and  brought  him  in  faith  as  well  as  in  person,  and  laid  him 
at  the  feet  of  Jesus. 

What  encouragement  for  Christians  to  labor  and  pray 
for  the  salvation  of  the  most  hardened  of  men  !  The  grace 
that  conquered  such  obstinacy  as  was  displayed  by  the 
subject  of  this  narrative,  should  be  devoutly  adored.  It 
can  reach  and  subdue  guilt  ever  so  crimsoned — depravity 
ever  so  inveterate. 

Every  sinner  must  one  day  awake  to  his  lost  condition. 

And  if  J M had  such  a  conflict,  and  endured  such 

agony  here,  how  terrible  the  conflict,  and  how  amazing  the 
agony  of  all  who  enter  unforgiven  upon  the  retributions  of 
eternity  ! 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


JVo.  360. 

THE 


BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL. 


The  influence  of  a  single  thought,  word,  or  action,  may 
be  incalculable  in  forming  the  character  and  deciding  the 
destiny  of  the  soul. 

1.  A  THOUGHT — what  does  it  ?  In  its  unpretending  char- 
acter, it  enters  with  a  common  train,  and  intrudes  upon  the 
leisure  or  unsuspecting  relaxation  of  the  mind.  But  once 
admitted,  it  may  whisper  rebellion,  infuse  moral  poison  into 
the  lifeblood,  inflame  the  passions,  bewilder  the  brain,  intoxi- 
cate, madden,  destroy  the  soul.  It  ivas,  at  first,  only  a  thought. 
In  its  maturity,  it  is  language,  speech,  action,  rebellion.  In 
the  end,  it  becomes  crime  and  death. 

It  was  only  a  thought  which  at  first  entered  the  mind 
of  an  angel  of  light,  that,  in  the  end,  laid  the  deep  founda- 
tions of  hell,  built  its  adamantine  walls,  forged  its  chains, 
kindled  its  fires,  and  changed  the  whole  character  of  that 
bright  angel,  with  others  who  now  feel  those  quenchless 
fires,  and  wear  those  eternal  chains. 

A  thought,  whispered  in  the  ear  of  our  first  mother, 
blasted  Eden,  and  "  brought  death  into  the  world,  and  all 
our  woe."  How  often,  in  the  history  of  the  human  soul,  is 
a  thought  made  the  starting-point  of  diverging  lines,  which 
shall  run  parallel  with  eternity,  widening  as  they  stretch 
their  eternal  course,  one  through  fields  of  light,  the  other 
into  deeper  and  darker  shades. 

There  is  no  truant  like  the  mind.  Constitutionally 
active,  it  is  now  the  constant  and  willing  servant  of  an  evil 
heart.  The  heart  can  never  exercise  its  aff'ections,  or  covet 
unlawful  gratifications,  without  leading  captive  the  mind ; 
and  unless  this  wandering  heart  be  strongly  confined  by  a 
stern  habit  of  virtue,  and  disciplined  to  law,  the  mind  be- 
VOL.  X.  10 


2  THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL. 

comes  incapable  of  control,  and  walks  on  the  boundary-line 
of  madness  and  despair.  "  Out  of  the  heart,"  says  our 
Lord,  "  proceed  evil  thoughts,"  and  all  uncleanness. 

Again,  we  are  surrounded  by  temptations,  which  are  all 
originating  and  sustaining  their  appropriate  trains  of  thought 
in  the  mind,  through  the  medium  of  the  senses.  By  these 
means  the  heart  easily  fixes  its  affections,  and  becomes  the 
subject  of  an  ill-directed  desire.  It  is  difficult  to  think  of 
an  evil  action  without  becoming  contaminated  with  the  evil 
itself,  and  a  partaker  of  its  guilt. 

It  is  often  said,  we  cannot  help  our  thoughts,  and  are 
not  accountable  for  them.  But  this  is  very  far  from  the 
fact,  as  a  little  attention  to  the  subject  will  readily  show. 
Although  associated  trains  of  thought  are  unbroken  links 
in  the  great  chain  of  the  mind's  existence,  binding  it  in 
its  self- consciousness  to  its  past  history,  yet  these  associa- 
tions are,  to  a  great  extent,  under  our  own  control.  We 
can,  at  will,  dismiss  one  set  of  ideas  and  call  up  another. 
We  dwell  at  pleasure  on  business,  or  religion ;  on  worldly 
cares,  or  on  the  cross.  This  is  true  in  the  experience  of  all, 
whether  in  relation  to  internal  or  external  sources  of  thoucfht. 

With  this  power  to  control  the  subjects  of  its  thought, 
the  mind  is  responsible  for  the  thoughts  it  entertains.  Al- 
though an  evil  thought  may  have  intruded,  unbidden  and 
unwelcome,  a  vigilant  and  Avell- disciplined  mind  will  readily 
detect,  and  promptly  exclude  it.  The  original  suggestion 
may  have  been  attended  with  no  guilt.  It  may  find  admis- 
sion even  to  a  pure  mind,  as  the  history  of  the  revolt  both 
in  heaven  and  Eden  testifies.  Guilt  attaches  to  the  mind 
not  in  the  conception,  but  in  the  entertainment  of  the 
thought. 

The  simple  admission  of  impure  or  evil  thoughts  may 
imply  a  state  of  mind  not  wholly  innocent,  where  the  ac- 
cess has  been  made  easy  by  that  mental  lassitude  and  want 
of  discipline  which  ever  attend  a  state  of  intellectual  idle- 
ness or  dissipation.  Here,  as  in  every  thing  else,  we  form 
habits,  and  these  habits  decide  our  characters. 


THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL.  3 

The  elements  and  principles  of  all  character  exist  in 
the  thoughts.  They  are  the  essential  forms,  which  are 
bodied  forth  in  speech  and  action.  Theij  form  the  man, 
to  be  exhibited  in  the  world  of  spirits  disembodied,  a  trans- 
parent existence  of  thought,  glowing  with  undying  fires  of 
love,  or  burning  with  the  quenchless  flames  of  passion  and 
hate  in  the  dark  regions  of  hell.      This  character  is  formed 

o 

here,  and  its  starting-point  is  a  thought,  and  all  its  linea- 
ments are  trains  of  thought,  and  all  its  immortal  sources  of 
pleasures  or  pains,  are  thoughts. 

By  indulging  one  train  of  thought,  a  man  may  become 
an  egotist ;  by  another,  a  miser  ;  by  a  third,  ambitious  ;  by 
a  fourth,  sensual.  By  suppressing  these,  and  entertaining 
an  opposite  class,  the  same  man  may  become  disinterested, 
liberal,  public-spirited,  or  self-denying.  He  dwells,  as  it 
were,  in  heaven,  by  cherishing  thoughts  of  heaven.  He 
treasures  up  a  knowledge  of  God  by  thinking  of  God.  The 
soul  is  prepared  by  knowledge  for  the  graces  of  the  Spirit, 
where  the  mind  has  long  been  disciplined,  and  accustomed 
to  dwell,  in  its  thoughts,  on  divine  things. 

How  important,  then,  in  directing,  framing,  and  con- 
trolling the  character  and  eternal  destiny  of  the  soul,  may 
be  a  single  thought.  Guard  well  thy  thoughts.  There  the 
true  action  lies.  There  is  the  portal  through  which  every 
heresy  and  unworthy  sentiment  will  seek  a  familiar  inter- 
course with  the  heart,  and  there  lies  the  active  agency 
through  which  all  the  internal  sources  of  corruption  and 
error  will  be  acted  out  and  become  flagrant.  Well  did  the 
apostle  commend  the  most  excellent  grace  of  charity,  when 
he  said,  "  It  thinketh  no  evil." 

2.  Next,  let  me  turn  your  attention  to  your  habits  of 
conversation.  How  insignificant  is  a  word  !  Yet  the  Saviour 
said,  *'  For  every  idle  word  that  men  shall  speak,  they  shall 
give  account  thereof  in  the  day  of  judgment."  A  word ! 
What  does  it  ?  In  a  moment  of  thoughtless  mirth  or  anger, 
it  fell  from  unadvised  or  hasty  lips.  It  oftended  a  friend. 
It  unlocked  the  arms  and  sundered  the  bands  of  friendship, 


4  THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL. 

dried  up  the  kindly  affections,  opened  the  fountains  of  pas- 
sion, hatred,  mahce,  and  revenge.  Those  friends  are  alien- 
ated. They  leave  the  domestic  circle,  where  the  wife,  the 
sister,  the  daughter,  the  babes  mingle  their  influence,  and 
bless  the  scene.  They  separate.  After  a  season  of  awful 
preparation,  they  meet  on  some  desolate  spot,  where  justice 
has  not  arrived,  and  law  cannot  speak ;  where  mercy  is  not 
permitted  to  enter;  where  the  spirit  that  reigns  in  hell 
holds  undisputed  empire.  With  this  spirit  in  their  hearts, 
they  meet.  They  fight.  There,  by  the  hand  of  one  friend, 
the  other  falls.  He  dies.  The  murderer  flies,  a  felon  under 
the  laws  of  God  and  of  man.  He  flies — the  victim  of  un- 
dying thought,  his  friend  made  the  victim  of  his  murderous 
passion.  That  happy  family  is  dismembered.  The  wife  is 
a  widow.  The  children  are  orphans.  The  aged  parent  is 
bereft  of  his  staff",  and  his  gray  hairs  are  brought  down 
with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  Yesterday,  that  house  was  filled 
with  joy;  every  heart  bounded  with  hilarity.  To-day,  the 
bright  sun  rises  upon  them  solitary,  and  in  their  weeds.  It 
reflects  its  glories  dimly  upon  the  dejected  eyes  of  a  widow 
and  her  orphans,  through  floods  of  tears.  Every  counte- 
nance is  sad.  There  is  public  sorrow.  The  laws  have 
been  broken,  justice  is  defeated  and  dishonored  in  the  death 
of  a  citizen,  a  statesman,  dishonored  in  his  fall.  What  has 
produced  this  train  of  evils  ?  A  word — an  unadvised,  a 
hasty  word. 

The  ruler  of  a  people,  the  ambassador  of  a  nation  con- 
ducts the  most  intricate  and  complicated  subject  of  litiga- 
tion with  another  nation  to  an  amicable  and  happy  termina- 
tion. The  principles  of  justice  are  all  mutually  applied  to 
the  case,  and  conceded.  A  question  involving  great  inter- 
ests and  lasting  results  is  settled.  But  on  the  very  eve  of 
completion,  this  harmony  is  suddenly  interrupted.  Nego- 
tiation is  broken  oflf.  Each  assumes  a  hostile  attitude. 
They  are  at  war.  History  records  a  protracted  conflict. 
Thousands  were  slain  in  battle.  Their  substance  was  eaten 
up,  their  wealth  wasted ;  the  land  mourns,  the  temples  of 


THE  BEGINNINGS  OF   EVIL.  5 

worship  are  desolated,  widows  and  orphans  are  multiphed, 
and  the  moral,  physical,  and  pecuniary  losses  to  both  sides 
are  irreparable.  What  mighty  agent  has  effected  this  sud- 
den change,  and  spread  this  wide  desolation  ?  It  was  a 
word.  It  involved  no  principle  in  the  controvers}^,  but, 
being  excepted  to  by  one  party,  was  insisted  on  by  the 
other. 

A  great  captain  once  went  forth  to  battle.  He  was 
victorious  over  his  foes ;  and,  elated  with  success,  he  re- 
turned in  triumph  with  his  army.  The  glory  of  his  deeds 
had  gone  before  him,  and  the  people  participated  his  joy. 
Every  heart  was  glad,  and  every  mother  and  sister  stood  to 
welcome  the  soldier  at  their  thresholds.  There  was  a  daugh- 
ter of  that  chieftain,  the  joy  of  her  father's  heart,  the  pride 
of  her  family,  the  heir  to  a  people's  gratitude,  and  to  all 
her  father's  glory.  Her  young  heart  bounded  with  exulta- 
tion. Her  filial  devotion  urged  her  forward  to  greet  and 
give  the  family  salutation  to  the  happy  father,  the  victorious 
chief.  But  instead  of  pressing  that  daughter's  hand  with 
a  father's  love,  instead  of  bending  to  receive  the  filial  em- 
brace of  those  eloquent  arms  with  a  paternal  benediction, 
he  gave  the  order,  as  appears  from  the  history,  for  her 
execution.  That  threshold  was  stained  with  blood.  It 
filled  that  house  with  mourning.  It  hung  its  chambers  with 
curtains  of  black,  spread  consternation  through  the  land, 
obscured  the  glory  of  that  bright  day,  and  has  drawn  tears 
from  the  eye  of  sympathy  in  every  age  at  the  recital  of  the 
story  of  Jephtha's  daughter.  And  what  was  the  cause  of 
all  this  ?    It  was  a  word,  an  unadvised  word  of  that  father. 

There  was  once  a  holy  man  who  preached  before  a 
wicked  ruler,  and  that  adulterer  trembled  before  the  preach- 
er. But,  under  convictions  that,  suitably  cherished,  might 
have  resulted  in  his  salvation,  he  was  induced  by  the  wick- 
ed woman  whom  he  had  unlawfully  married,  to  imprison, 
and  afterwards  to  behead  that  holy  man.  John  the  Baptist 
was  killed  by  order  of  Herod,  and  his  head  brought  in  a  char- 
ger, and  delivered  to  the  daughter  of  Herodias,  his  brother 
VOL.  X.  10* 


^  THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL. 

Philip's  wife.  How  could  he  do  it  ?  It  was  for  a  hasty- 
word. 

What  is  a  zvord  ?  It  is  but  breath  modified  by  muscular 
action.  It  is  a  vibration  of  the  air,  that  settles  back  quickly 
to  its  original  repose.  But  not  so  with  the  thought  which 
moved  those  muscles,  and  the  thought,  too,  which  is  awak- 
ened by  that  vibration.  That  thought  is  identified  with  the 
character  of  the  man  who  has  uttered  it ;  and  that  wave  of 
air  which  was  too  feeble  to  waft  a  feather,  has  conveyed  a 
sentiment  from  soul  to  soul,  and  excited  a  passion  that  may 
burn  perhaps,  or  an  affection  that  may  glow  to  all  eternity. 

Words  are  the  medium  of  intercommunication  between 
immortal  minds.  They  are  the  motive  engines  by  which 
thoughts  and  feelings  are  communicated  from  heart  to  heart. 
Thus  do  they  often  become  the  means  of  binding  closer  the 
cords  of  friendship  and  love,  or  of  alienating  and  imbitter- 
ing  the  enemies  of  a  depraved  heart.  "  Therewith  bless  we 
God,  even  the  Father,  and  therewith  curse  we  men,  who 
are  made  after  the  similitude  of  God."  "With  the  mouth 
confession  is  made  unto  salvation."  By  a  word,  expressive 
of  the  sentiments  of  the  heart,  we  are  brought  into  union 
with  the  Saviour,  and  by  a  word  expressive  of  another  sen- 
timent, we  blaspheme  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  transcend  the 
limits  of  divine  mercy  !  Oh,  how  important  in  its  results 
often,  is  a  word  spoken.  Truly  did  an  apostle  say,  an  un- 
governed  tongue  "  defileth  the  whole  body,  and  setteth  on 
fire  the  course  of  nature,  and  is  set  on  fire  of  hell."  And 
again,  "  If  any  man  among  you  seem  to  be  religious,  and 
bridleth  not  his  tongue,  that  man's  religion  is  vain." 

3.  Now,  consider  your  actions.  It  is  principally  impor- 
tant to  do  this  in  order  to  bring  to  view  a  part  of  conduct 
which  is  not  commonly  regarded  as  attended  by  any  serious 
consequences — I  mean  that  which  consists  in  trijies.  Great 
crimes  we  revolt  at,  but  we  sometimes  forget  how  near  the 
least  is  to  the  greatest,  the  same  in  kind,  leading  directly 
to  others,  and  serving,  in  its  measure,  to  disease  and  weaken 
the  moral  energies  of  the  soul  that  entertains  it.    Tasting  a 


THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL.  7 

forbidden  fruit,  perhaps  the  eating  of  a  common  apple, 
ruined  all  our  race.  It  was  the  transgression  of  the  law. 
That  is  the  most  that  can  be  said  of  any  sin.  A  healthy- 
constitution  of  moral  habits  can  be  attained  only  by  a  watch- 
ful care  of  every  part  of  our  conduct.  It  is  vain  to  close 
our  house  against  the  thief,  while  one  avenue  is  left  un- 
guarded. It  is  folly  to  order  an  infected  ship  on  quaran- 
tine, while  we  embrace  one  of  the  infected  crew  in  the 
bosom  of  society.  Equally  vain  is  it  to  regulate  the  great 
lines  of  our  conduct,  if  we"  neglect  the  small  points,  which 
will  "grow  with  our  growth,  and  strengthen  with  our 
strength."  Attainments  in  guilt  are  gradual.  No  man 
ever  became  a  prodigy  of  wickedness  at  once. 

If  we  examine  the  histories  of  prisons,  and  the  annals  of 
the  gallows,  we  shall  uniformly  find  that  the  tenants  of  the 
one,  and  the  victims  of  the  other,  have  once  been  harmless, 
irreproachable  men,  women,  or  children,  and  have  come 
gradually  to  their  end  from  small  beginnings.  In  the  his- 
tory of  human  depravity,  we  should  probably  find  that  the 
confirmed  drunkard  was  once  a  fashionable  tippler ;  the 
remorseless  thief  a  decent  gambler;  the  bold  blasphemer 
an  idle  talker;  the  dishonest  spendthrift  one  who  began 
with  a  restricted  profusion;  and  the  exhausted  profligate 
might  be  traced  back  to  a  conflict  of  conscience,  where  he 
consented  for  once  to  sin,  and  resolved  never  to  repeat  the 
commission  of  the  crime. 

It  is  melancholy  to  hear  from  the  haunts  of  wickedness 
and  excess,  the  story  of  those  who,  wasted  by  disease,  yield 
at  last  a  remaining  skeleton  to  the  hands  of  the  surgeon  for 
dissection,  as  the  only  and  scant  remuneration  for  his  pro- 
fessional attendance.  The  wretched  ^dctim  of  seduction, 
now  the  discarded  subject  of  a  murdered  reputation,  once 
blushed  at  the  whisper  of  reproach,  and  shuddered  at  the 
thought  of  impurity.  The  hardened  and  emaciated  debau- 
chee was  once  a  youth,  who  listened  to  the  counsels  of  a 
pious  mother,  and  shrunk  from  the  "way  of  the  strange 
woman."    The  bankrupt,  whose  midnight  revels  have  wasted 


8  THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  EVIL. 

his  estate  and  impoverished  his  family,  will  tell  you  that 
he  commenced  his  career  at  a  decent  card-party,  and  only 
staked  his  change  to  give  an  interest  to  the  game.  The 
expiring  drunkard,  in  his  rags  and  wretchedness,  will  admit 
that  he  began  at  the  social  board,  where  gayety  led  to  ex- 
cessive mirth,  and  mirth  to  intoxication.  The  bold  blas- 
phemer, brought  to  reflection,  will  confess  that  he  first 
trifled  with  sacred  things  in  a  frolic,  and  then  profaned  the 
name  of  God  without  remorse.  The  wretch,  whose  scathed 
and  seared  visage  shows  already  the  inward  mahce  of  a 
spirit  damned,  perhaps  twenty  years  before  was  a  father's 
pride,  smiling  in  a  mother's  arms,  furnishing  to  the  pencil 
of  the  painter,  or  the  fancy  of  the  poet,  the  original  picture 
from  which  he  drew  his  portrait  of  bliss  and  innocence  in 
Eden.  And  the  apostate,  now  branded  and  excommuni- 
cated, is  the  man  who,  a  few  years  ago,  wept  at  the  sacra- 
mental table,  but  from  mistaken  policy  or  irresolution,  yield- 
ed to  popular  custom  or  private  convenience,  still  resolved 
to  maintain  his  hope,  now  withered  and  dead.  Truly,  that 
man  only  is  safe,  who  '*  abstains  from  all  appearance  of  evil." 
I  can  now,  in  conclusion,  only  direct  your  vigilance  to- 
wards the  dangers  which  arise  from  three  sources,  namely, 
from  the  company  you  keep,  the  business  you  engage  in,  and 
the  subjects  of  thought  you  entertain.  I  solemnly  say,  then, 
separate  from  your  companionship  all  those  whose  prin- 
ciples, example,  or  conversation,  are  injurious  or  unprofit- 
able. Abandon  at  once,  and  for  ever,  all  business  which  you 
cannot  pursue  with  safety  to  the  cultivation  and  maintenance 
of  a  high  religious  character.  And  admit  no  subjects  of 
thought,  cherish  no  mental  associations,  which  sensuahze  or 
degrade  the  soul.  These  rules,  faithfully  applied,  may  make 
a  great  change  in  your  afi'airs,  and  require  great  sacrifices ; 
but  be  assured  they  will  also  be  attended  with  great  results, 
whose  record  may  be  read  by  you  in  heaven  instead  of  hell. 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


IVo.  367. 


LIVE  FOE  THE  WORLD. 


BY  THE  GRACE  OF  GOD,  I  WILL  HENCEFORTH  LIVE  FOR  THE 

WORLD." 


That  is  a  strange  and  bold  avowal.  Very  few  men  form 
such  a  purpose,  and  still  fewer  live  according  to  it.  A  man 
ought  to  be  careful  how  he  promises ;  for  *'  it  is  better  not 
to  vow,  than  to  vow  and  not  pay."  To  act  agreeably  to  such 
a  purpose  would  make  one  very  singular.  It  will  also  be 
expensive.  I  shall  not  be  able  to  lay  up  much,  if  any  thing. 
Neither  shall  I  be  able  to  call  any  thing  my  own.  And  I 
shall  be  worn  out  with  constant  care  and  labor  for  the  benefit 
of  others.  I  shall  not  have  a  day  for  myself  in  the  whole 
year.  What  did  I  say  ?  " /  ^o'lll  henceforth  live  for  the 
world  .^"  The  world  is  very  large.  This  is  a  great  deal  to 
undertake.     I  must  give  my  reasons  for  such  a  resolution. 

The  fact  that  God  made  the  world  is  a  reason  why  I 
should  feel  an  interest  in  it  according  to  his  design  in 
creating  it.  I  will  regard  the  operation  of  his  hands.  The 
same  God  who  made  me,  made  all  men.  Why  should  I 
not  seek  the  good  of  all  ?  Having  a  common  Creator  and 
Father  of  all,  we  ought  to  have  a  common  interest. 

All  men  are  mortal,  yet  immortal.  They  will  soon  be 
dead,  yet  shall  they  live  for  ever.  Time  is  but  an  introduc- 
tion to  eternity.  Life  is  the  first  link  in  immortality.  Men 
shall  henceforth  exist  as  long  as  the  God  that  made  them. 
This  is  the  destiny  of  all.  All  men,  therefore,  are  worth 
living  for.  Jesus  Christ,  who  knew  the  worth  of  souls,  de- 
clared one  of  more  value  than  all  the  treasures  of  earth. 
How  can  I  then  decline  livino-  for  a  world  of  souls  ? 

The  world  needs  help,  for  the  whole  of  it  lies  in  wicked- 
ness.    Men's  dwellings  are  on  fire,  and  they  are  sunk  into 


I 
LIVE  FOR  THE  WORLD. 


sound  sleep.  They  have  lost  their  way.  They  have  lost 
their  vision.  They  have  a  race  to  run,  yet  they  cannot  walk. 
Unless  they  hear,  their  souls  shall  not  live,  and  yet  their 
ears  are  dull  of  hearing.  'Tis  enough  to  break  one's  heart 
to  see  how  much  is  justly  required  of  men,  and  yet  how 
unprepared  they  are  to  meet  any  requirement — to  think 
how  much  they  have  to  do,  and  how  long  and  late  they  are 
in  beginning  any  duty.  *'  The  whole  creation  groaneth  until 
now."  Its  wailings  and  its  crimes  wrung  the  heart  of  the 
incarnate  God.  Unless  its  present  tribes  be  speedily  saved, 
they  will  for  ever  writhe  under  the  fell  gnaw  of  the  undying 
worm.  I  know  not  that  the  cry  of  despair  has  in  it  one  more 
melting  or  piercing  note,  than  has  the  cry  of  the  perishing 
millions  of  earth.     ^Necessities  could  not  be  more  urgent. 

Besides,  in  all  the  earth  are  some  souls  willing  to  be 
helped.  Everywhere  the  sighing  of  the  prisoner  is  heard, 
and  to  him  the  preaching  of  ''the  acceptable  year  of  the 
Lord  "  would  be  music.  The  shivering  Greenlander,  the  fair 
Georgian,  the  bloody  Tartar,  the  caste-ridden  Hindoo,  the 
inhabitant  of  the  freezing  and  of  the  burning  zones,  the  wild 
man  and  the  polished  citizen  in  many  lands, 

"  Call  us  to  deliver 
Their  souls  from  error's  chain." 

I  will  live  for  the  world  because  many  are  living  against 
it.  There  is  "  that  old  serpent  the  Devil,  and  Satan,  who 
deceiveth  the  whole  world."  And  besides  him,  "many  de- 
ceivers are  entered  into  the  world."  Wherever  on  all  the 
earth  there  are  souls,  there  also  are  wicked  men  and  wicked 
angels  plotting  and  essaying  their  ruin.  Doth  Satan  accuse 
them  before  God  ?  I  will  intercede  with  God  for  them.  Do 
wicked  men  disseminate  writings  and  sentiments  to  draw 
them  down  to  the  pit  ?  I  will  send  them  books  and  speak  to 
them  words  whereby  they  may  be  saved.  Shall  the  mali- 
cious never  tire  in  deeds  and  plans  of  darkness  and  death, 
and  shall  I  grow  weary  in  works  of  love  and  devices  of 


LIVE  FOR  THE  WORLD.  3 

mercy  ?  Doth  Satan  go  to  and  fro,  seeking  whom  he  may- 
devour?  Then  I  will  imitate  Him  who,  bruising  Satan  un- 
der him,  "went  about  doing  good."  Where  there  is  much 
zeal  for  evil,  indifference  to  good  is  a  great  crime. 

Many  of  those  whose  care  for  others  might  avail,  live 
wholly  unto  themselves  ;  therefore  I  must  do  my  part  in  fill- 
ing up  this  lack  of  service.  If  others  hold  back,  I  will  go 
forward.  If  others  linger,  why  should  I  become  a  pillar 
of  salt  ?  Because  there  was  no  man  like-minded,  who  would 
naturally  care  for  the  Ephesian  converts,  therefore  Timothy 
must  be  their  pastor.  If  others  would  not,  he  must  care  for 
them.  All  the  good  that  is  done  in  this  world  is  done  by  a 
few.  By  the  grace  of  God,  I  will  be  one  of  the  little  com- 
pany. 

Moreover,  God  "hath  made  of  one  hlood  all  nations  of 
men  to  dwell  on  the  face  of  the  earth."  If  all  are  of  one 
blood,  it  is  as  great  an  honor  to  save  the  soul  of  a  slave  as 
that  of  a  prince.  All  men  are  bone  of  my  bone,  and  flesh 
of  my  flesh.  And  no  man  ever  yet  hated  his  own  flesh. 
But  he  who  does  not  love,  hates ;  and  he  who  loves  all  he 
does  know,  loves  all  he  does  not  know.  And  "  he  that 
dwelleth  in  love,  dwelleth  in  God." 

I  will  live  for  all,  because  all  are  my  neighbors.  So 
Christ  Jesus  has  taught  me  by  a  most  beautiful  parable. 
Difference  in  manners,  complexion,  age,  rank,  fortune,  na- 
tion, politics,  or  religion,  shall  never  chill  my  charity. 
Every  sinner  who  is  not  in  hell  is  my  neighbor.  If  I  can 
reach  him  in  no  other  way,  I  may  by  prayer.  I  must  love 
my  neighbor  as  myself,  or  dwell  with  everlasting  burnings. 

To  live  for  all  would  make  me  like  the  best  men.  One 
said,  "  Oh,  let  the  wickedness  of  the  wicked  come,  to  an 
end — rivers  of  water  run  down  ray  eyes,  because  they  keep 
not  thy  law."  Another  said,  "  Oh  that  my  head  were  wa- 
ters, and  mine  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears,  that  I  might  weep 
day  and  night  for  the  slain  of  the  daughter  of  my  people." 
Another  saw  an  angel  with  an  inkhorn  at  his  side,  putting 


4  LIVE  FOR  THE  WORLD. 

a  mark  on  all  that  did  sigh  and  cry  for  all  the  abominations 
done  in  the  land.  Afterwards,  when  the  middle  wall  of 
partition  was  broken  down,  Paul  said,  "  Who  is  weak,  and 
I  am  not  weak  ?  Who  is  offended,  and  I  burn  not  ?  I  will 
very  gladly  spend  and  be  spent  for  you,  though  the  more 
abundantly  I  love  you,  the  less  I  be  loved."  Richard  Bax- 
ter said,  "  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  that  lies  so  heavy 
upon  my  heart,  as  the  thought  of  the  miserable  nations  of 
the  earth.  I  cannot  be  affected  so  much  with  the  calamities 
of  my  own  relations,  or  of  the  land  of  my  nativity,  as  with 
the  case  of  the  heathen,  Mahommedan,  ignorant  nations  of 
the  earth.  No  part  of  my  prayers  is  so  deeply  serious,  as 
that  for  the  infidel  and  ungodly  world."  Dr.  Nevins,  as 
he  was  falling  asleep  in  Jesus,  said,  "  I  would  like  to  have 
it  known,  that  the  nearer  I  get  to  heaven,  the  dearer  is  the 
cause  of  missions  to  my  heart." 

"  Oh  that  on  me  with  rays  divine 

His  countenance  would  turn ; 
1  too  would  then  arise  and  shine, 

Arise  and  shine  and  burn !" 

To  keep  my  resolutions,  will  make  me  UTce  God ;  for 
''  he  is  not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  and  he  will  have 
all  men  to  be  saved.  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave 
his  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him 
should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  Shall  I  not 
be  "  a  follower  of  God,"  especially  when  commanded  to 
be  ?  Did  God  love  the  world,  and  shall  I  love  none  but 
myself?  Rather  let  my  benevolence  run  round  the  earth. 
If  God  gave  his  Son,  shall  I  withhold  the  fruit  of  my  body  ? 
And  if  with  his  Son  he  freely  giveth  all  things,  then 

"  I'll  love  my  God  with  zeal  so  great, 
That  I  will  give  him  all." 

I  will  henceforth  live  for  the  world,  because  I  have  hith- 
erto lived  very  much  to  unworthy  ends  and  objects.  Much 
of  my  time  has  been  spent  in  sin,  much  in  folly,  much  in 


LIVE  FOR  THE  WORLD.  5 

unproductive  efforts  to  do  good.  "  The  time  past  may  suf- 
fice for"  these  things.  The  time  to  come  I  will  devote, 
little  as  it  may  be,  to  the  glory  of  God  in  the  salvation  of 
the  world. 

I  will  keep  my  resolution,  because  Christ  prayed  for  the 
salvation  of  the  ivorld  ;  yea,  he  is  in  heaven  **  from  hence- 
forth expecting  "  until  all  the  earth  shall  bow  to  his  gracious 
sceptre,  and  all  the  dying  be  filled  with  his  saving  health. 
If  my  Lord  prays  for  it,  shall  not  I  ?  If  he  expects  it,  may 
I  not  dare  to  look  for  it  ? 

There  is  sufficient  merit  in  Christ  to  save  all ;  then  will 
I  seek  the  salvation  of  all,  "The  Lamb  of  God  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world.  He  is  a  propitiation  for  the  sins  of 
the  whole  world."  If  Christ  has  made  such  ample  provis- 
ion, I  cannot  keep  silence  until  all  know  it.  I  must  seek 
to  bring  all  to  Christ,  whom  he  is  ready  and  able  to  save. 

God  calls  on  all  to  he  saved.  "  Ho,  every  one  that 
thirsteth."  "Whosoever  will" — "Look  unto  me  and  be 
ye  saved,  all  the  ends  of  the  earth."  Who  dares  to  limit 
this  invitation?  "Let  him  that  heareth  "  it,  "say,  Come!" 
If  Jehovah  calls  all,  I  will  call  all  too,  and  I  will  call  on 
Jehovah  in  behalf  of  all. 

It  is  promised,  that  the  heathen  shall  he  Chrisfs  inher- 
itance, and  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  his  possession. 
Yea,  God  hath  sworn,  and  he  will  not  repent,  "  that  all  the 
earth  shall  be  filled  with  his  glory."  Of  this  none  may 
safely  doubt,  for  "the  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it," 
I  may  therefore  properly  live  for  an  object  which  shall 
assuredly  be  gained.  My  purpose  shall  be  accomplished 
in  the  fulfilment  of  God's  word  and  oath.  There  is  no 
fanaticism  in  believing  all  that  God  has  spoken  and  sworn 
to,  for  his  word  and  oath  are  "  two  immutable  things." 

I  must  act  on  my  resolution,  for  the  only  commission 

under  which  I  may  attempt  any  thing  demands  the  most 

enlarged  action.     The  very  texts  which  authorize  any  efforts 

to  save  souls,  command  to  "  preach  the  Gospel  to  every 

VOL.  X.  11 


Q  LIVE  FOR  THE  WORLD. 

creature — to  the  end  of  the  world."  He  who  wilfully  acts 
on  but  half  his  commission,  is  unfit  to  hold  it. 

Unless  such  be  my  constant  aim,  there  will  be  a  sad 
discreimncy  hetiveen  my  jirayers  and  my  life.  Every  day 
I  ask  that  God's  will  may  "  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in 
heaven" — that  there  may  be  rebellion  in  no  part  of  earth. 
Unless  my  benevolent  plans  and  efforts  correspond  to  this 
prayer,  I  am  a  hypocrite.  And  unless  I  sincerely  use  the 
Lord's  prayer  now,  he  will  not  hear  my  prayer  in  the  day 
of  my  distress. 

Acting  thus,  I  shall  best  secure  my  own  religious  com- 
fort and  growth.  "  The  liberal  soul  deviseth  liberal  things, 
and  by  liberal  things  shall  he  stand.  The  liberal  soul  shall 
be  made  fat.  He  that  soweth  bountifully,  shall  reap  also 
bountifully."  Much  exercise  of  rehgious  graces  will  im- 
part great  vigor,  which  is  but  another  name  for  great  hap- 
piness. Walking  in  the  ways  of  God's  commands,  is  soon 
followed  by  leaping  and  praising  God.  To  work  righteous- 
ness is  to  rejoice. 

I  will  live  for  the  world,  because  in  this  way  alone  can 
I  avoid  a  twofold  curse.  The  people  shall  curse  him  who 
withholds  corn  in  the  time  of  famine ;  and  shall  not  they 
curse  him  who  withholds  the  bread  of  life  from  the  famishr 
ing,  the  cup  of  the  Avine  of  consolation  from  the  dying,  the 
water  of  life  from  lips  parched  with  the  fever  of  sin,  and 
"goodness  from  such  as  are  bound  in  affliction  and  iron?" 
Yea,  God  himself  will  send  a  curse,  the  bitter  curse  of  Me- 
roz,  on  all  who  come  not  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against 
the  mighty. 

I  will  take  large  views,  because  if  I  attempt  hut  little, 
I  shall  prohahly  do  less.  Even  if  small  plans  are  fully  ac- 
complished, and  small  expectations  fully  realized,  but  few 
are  benefited.  My  soul  must  dilate  with  love  until  it  com- 
prehends the  human  race.  Then,  if  I  attempt  much,  I 
shall  probably  do  more.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  for 
men  of  expanded  views  and  warm   hearts   to   accomplish 


LIVE  FOR  THE  WORLD.  7 

more  than  they  at  first  thought  of.  Read  the  history  of 
every  modem  device  of  love.  "  We  are  able,  if  we  think 
so,"  was  the  motto  under  which  the  whole  world  was  con- 
quered to  the  sceptre  of  the  Caesars.  *'  I  can  do  all  things 
through  Christ  which  strengtheneth  me,"  is  a  far  better 
and  more  potent  motto,  by  which  we  shall  subdue  the  earth 
to  Christ  the  King. 

I  should  be  more  criminal  for  declining  such  a  resolution 
than  my  fathers  luere,  for  ''all  things  are  now  ready." 
We  have  the  books,  the  translations,  the  missionaries,  the 
ships,  the  facilities  of  every  kind.  Even  political  changes 
are  favorable.  Every  invention  is  auxiliary.  Whatever  is 
done  for  the  world  prospers.  The  most  sottish  and  barbar- 
ous, the  most  cruel  and  superstitious,  are  proved  to  be 
within  the  renovating  grasp  of  God's  benevolence.  A  na- 
tion is  wellnigh  born  in  a  day.  The  ploughman  overtakes 
the  reaper.  Before  we  call,  God  answers ;  and  while  we 
are  yet  speaking,  he  hears.  The  prophecies  are  big  with 
unborn  blessings.  Even  the  heathen  are  expecting  a  change. 
Every  system  of  error  is  in  its  dotage,  and  is  sinking  under 
accumulated  infirmities.  And  the  sound  of  a  going  is  heard 
in  the  tops  of  the  mulberry-trees. 

I  will  live  for  all,  because  all  must  go  to  the  judgment. 
God  will  "judge  the  world  in  righteousness.  We  must 
all  appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ."  As  we 
shall  all  have  a  Judge,  we  shall  all  need  an  Advocate. 
What  would  I  not  do  or  suffer  in  the  last  great  day,  if 
thereby  I  might  save  one  soul  of  those  on  whom  I  shall 
see  the  vials  of  wrath  poured  out?  I  will  now  do  and 
suffer  all  I  can,  that  may  tend  to  save  souls,  ere  it  is  too 
late.     A  soul  saved  now,  will  be  saved  for  ever. 

For  these  reasons  I  conclude,  that  my  resolution,  though 
to  many  it  seem  strange  and  bold,  is  not  rash.  It  can  be 
justified.  There  are  the  best  reasons  for  it,  and  many  of 
them.  I  have  assigned  more  than  twenty.  Others  can 
add  to  the  number.     My  conscience  is  satisfied  ;  yea  more, 


8  LIVE  FOR  THE  WORLD. 

she  is  firmly  and  sweetly  bound.  Thanks  be  to  God  for 
putting  such  a  thought  into  my  mind,  and  for  giving  me 
grace  to  shape  it  into  a  solemn  purpose. 

And  now,  lest  I  should  spoil  the  whole,  I  will  record 
what  I  mean.  I  mean,  that  I  will  not  be  selfish,  idle,  taking 
narrow  views,  and  having  narrow  foelings.  I  mean,  that  I 
will  not  live  for  pleasure,  for  gain,  for  ease,  for  honor.  I 
mean,  that  I  will  not  delude  myself  by  romantic  notions  of 
some  good  I  may  do,  I  know  not  how.  My  charity  shall 
hegin  at  home — in  my  family,  and  with  my  neighbors ;  for 
if  I  love  not  my  brother  whom  I  have  seen,  how  can  I 
love  my  brother  whom  I  have  not  seen  ?  But  my  charity 
shall  not  end  at  home.  I  will  day  and  night  seek  the 
salvation  of  others  more  remote.  Yea,  I  will  inquire  for 
avenues  of  sending  light  and  love  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
I  will  inform  myself  of  the  wants  and  miseries  of  the  world 
I  will  cordially  listen  to  every  appeal  in  behalf  of  every 
good  object.  I  will  then  do  all  I  can,  by  money,  time, 
influence,  prayer,  example,  and  personal  effort.  This  is 
what  I  mean  by  ray  resolution. 

"  Lord,  can  a  feeble,  helpless  worm 

Fulfil  a  task  so  hard  ? 
Thy  grace  must  all  the  work  perform, 

And  give  the  free  reward." 

0  for  grace  to  redeem  my  pledge.  Lord  Jesus,  increase 
my  faith,  enlarge  my  heart,  fortify  my  determination,  be 
thou  my  strength,  out  of  weakness  make  me  mighty,  let 
me  not  basely  fail  and  flee  :  thine  shall  be  the  glory  through 
eternal  ages. 


PUBLISHED   BY  THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


r 


^o.  368. 

DON'T  PUT  IT  OFF. 


Most  men  agree  that  something;  must  be  done  in  this  hfe. 
It  is  not  enough  to  know,  and  purpose,  and  promise  some- 
thinff.     It  must  be  done. 

Nor  is  it  generally  doubted  but  every  man  has  something 
to  do.  Every  man  must  die,  and  every  man  must  give  ac- 
count of  himself  to  God.  Should  not  every  man,  then,  pre- 
pare to  die  and  be  judged  ? 

Nor  is  it  impossible  for  us  to  learn  ivhat  we  must  do. 
In  all  essential  things  our  duty  is  exceedingly  plain.  To 
forsake  wicked  ways,  and  words,  and  thoughts  ;  to  repent 
of  all  sin ;  to  believe  with  the  heart  in  Jesus  Christ ;  to  be 
led  by  the  Holy  Spirit ;  to  love  God's  name,  people,  Sab- 
bath, word,  and  worship  ;  to  be  humble,  meek,  gentle,  con- 
tented, forgiving,  and  holy — are  duties  so  plain  that  few 
intend  to  leave  this  world  without  attending  to  them.  Men 
are  kept  from  embracing  religion  by  deferring  it.  To  such 
I  say,  Don't  put  it  off. 

Don't  put  it  off — for,  decide  as  you  may,  others  will  be 
likely  to  follow  your  example.  When  Zaccheus,  and  Lydia, 
and  the  jailer  embraced  Christ,  salvation  came  to  their 
households.  Christ  notices  it  as  a  mark  of  peculiar  guilt 
in  the  Pharisees  not  to  repent,  when  they  saio  the  publicans 
and  harlots  believing  John.  "  One  sinner  destroyeth  much 
good."     No  man  perishes  alone. 

Don't  put  it  off — for  the  appropriate  husiness  of  time  can 
not  be  done  in  eternity.  "  To  every  thing  there  is  a  season, 
and  a  time  to  every  purpose."  It  would  be  as  wise  to  ex- 
pect harvest  in  midwinter,  as  to  suppose  that  the  next  life 
would  afford  opportunity  for  doing  the  business  of  this. 
This  life  is  in  order  to  that  which  is  to  come.  This  is  the 
seed-time ;  the  next  is  the  harvest.  Now  we  run  a  race : 
if  successfully,  we  shall  in  the  next  world  wear  the  unfading 
crown  ;  if  unsuccessfully,  we  shall  fall  into  shame  and  ever- 
lasting contempt. 

The  work  to  be  done  is  great.  A  soul  is  to  be  saved, 
countless  sins  are  to  be  pardoned,  vicious  propensities  eradi- 

VOL.  X.  ll=i<^ 


2  DON'T  PUT  IT  OFF. 

cated,  bad  habits  broken  up,  good  habits  established,  Jesus 
Christ  to  be  formed  in  the  soul,  God  to  be  pleased,  the  fear 
of  death  to  be  expelled,  hell  escaped,  and  heaven  won.  In 
building  the  ark,  Noah  did  a  great  work.  This  work,  *'  the 
mighty  work  of  life,"  is  greater. 

Time  is  short.  Like  a  post,  time  travels  night  and  day  ; 
like  a  weaver's  shuttle,  it  flies  so  fast  that  it  cannot  be  seen  ; 
like  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  falling  on  the  earth,  it  goes  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind ;  like  a  vapor,  it  vanishes,  none  can 
tell  how. 

"  A  point  of  time,  a  moment's  space 
Removes  you  to  yon  heavenly  place, 
Or  shuts  you  up  in  hell." 

Life  is  uncertain.  One  man  died  in  the  midst  of  a  dem- 
onstration, another  in  the  midst  of  an  argument,  another 
reading  the  newspaper,  another  walking  in  his  garden, 
another  laughing  at  a  ludicrous  picture.  Many  fall  asleep 
and  never  awake  in  time.  Many,  in  health  one  hour,  are  at 
God's  bar  the  next.  Rest  not  thy  soul's  eternal  well-being 
on  such  an  uncertainty. 

Now  is  the  best  time.  Even  if  you  should  live  half  a 
century,  you  will  have  no  time  so  good  as  the  present. 

There  is  much  at  stake.  A  deathless  soul,  an  eternity 
of  bliss  or  woe,  the  withering  frown  or  life-giving  smile  of 
Jehovah  are  concerned.     No  cherub  or  archano-el  can  com- 

O 

pute  the  worth  of  that  which  you  risk  by  dela3^ 

It  may  become  disagreeable.  Religion  thought  of,  but  not 
embraced,  will  make  you  very  unhappy;  languidly  or  re- 
luctantly attended  to,  nothing  is  more  unprofitable.  Its  first 
and  great  demand  is,  Give  me  thy  heart.  Until  this  is  done, 
the  ways  of  wisdom  are  irksomeness.  Hope  deferred,  makes 
the  heart  sick.     Religion  deferred,  is  death  to  the  soul. 

Religion  delayed,  is  religion  rejected.  To  postpone  the 
matter  a  day,  is  to  postpone  it  indefinitely.  To  hesitate 
about  receiving  Christ,  is  to  despise  him.  All  pretences  of 
obeying  God  by  and  by,  are  hypocritical.  To  yield  imme- 
diately to  his  claims,  is  as  much  a  duty  as  to  yield  at  all. 
Who  would  think  him  sincere,  who,  in  promising  amend- 
ment in  habits  of  honesty,  or  sobriety,  or  truth,  should  pro- 
pose to  begin  his  reformation  a  month  hence  ? 

The  difficulty  of  your  salvation  is  continually  increasing. 


DON'T  PUT  IT  OFF.  3 

Satan  is  always  adding  new  chains  or  riveting  old  ones  on 
all  his  captives.  The  world  entwines  itself  around  the  soul 
by  a  new  fold  every  day.  The  imregenerate  heart  is  always 
waxing  worse  and  worse.  Especially  does  delay  make  it 
dreadfully  hard.  "  To-day,  if  ye  will  hear  his  voice,  harden 
not  your  heart." 

You  ivill  grieve  the  greatest  goodness.  To  requite  the 
Father's  love  with  coldness,  the  Son's  compassion  with  in- 
difference, and  the  Spirit's  wooings  with  resistance,  is  to  be 
a  vile  ingrate.  Call  me  ungrateful,  said  a  heathen,  and  you 
can  call  me  nothing  worse. 

The  Bible  warrants  no  delay.  "What  thy  hand  findeth 
to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might."  "  Behold,  now  is  the  accepted 
time  ;  behold,  now  is  the  day  of  salvation."  In  a  matter  in- 
volving eternal  interests,  be  not  so  daring  as  to  act  without 
scriptural  warrant. 

Dont  put  it  off,  lest  you  he  lost.  None  ever  got  to 
heaven  by  delaying  the  surrender  of  their  hearts  to  God. 
Waiting  to  become  better  or  less  wicked,  never  does  any 
good.  Delay  is  disobedience,  disobedience  is  sin,  and  sin 
can  never  fit  the  soul  for  being  saved. 

Dont  put  it  off,  and  you  shall  he  saved.  This  was  the 
way  in  which  the  thief  on  the  cross,  Saul  of  Tarsus,  and  all 
the  redeemed  have  come  to  Christ.  Yea,  before  the  coming 
of  Christ,  this  was  the  way  men  were  converted,  "  I  thought 
on  my  ways,  and  turned  my  feet  unto  thy  testimonies.  / 
7nade  haste,  and  delayed  not  to  keep  thy  commandments." 
Thus  did  David,  and  success  attended  his  holy  speed.  They 
•who  hasten  after  another  god,  multiply  their  sorrows.  But 
they  who  hasten  after  the  true  God,  shall  have  more  abun- 
dant joys  than  sinners  have  when  their  corn  and  wine  abound. 
They  shall  be  saved  from  sin,  and  guilt,  and  hell,  and  raised 
to  heaven,  and  holiness,  and  eternal  bliss. 

Do7i't  put  it  off;  for  God,  who  now  ivaits  to  he  gracious, 
may  withdraw  his  Spirit.  Christ  says,  "  Behold,  I  stand 
at  the  door  and  knock ;  if  any  man  hear  my  voice  and  open 
the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him  and  sup  with  him,  and  he 
with  me." 

"  Admit  him  ere  his  anger  burn, 
His  feet,  departed,  ne'er  return: 
Admit  him,  or  the  hour's  at  hand 
You'll  at  his  door  rejected  stand." 


4  DON'T  PUT  IT  OFF. 

God's  Spirit,  on  whose  agency  your  salvation  depends, 
■svill  not  always  strive  with  man.  Had  not  Bartimeus  called 
just  when  he  did,  and  earnestly  as  he  did,  he  would  have 
remained  blind  for  life.  The  opportunity  of  repentance, 
once  gone,  is  gone  for  ever. 

Don  t  put  it  off,  and  you  ivlll  never  regret  it ;  hut  delay 
will,  sooner  or  later,  fill  you  with  the  most  poignant  grief. 
"  I  am  dying,"  said  one  who  has  just  left  the  world,  "  but  I 
am  happy.  I  am  going  to  Jesus.  Thanks  to  God,  who  did 
not  let  me  put  it  off."  "  I  am  dying,"  said  a  youth  recently, 
"  and  I  am  going  to  hell.  Tell  them  all  from  me,  that  it  is 
a  dreadful  thing  to  die  a  sinner.  Tell  them  not  to  put  it 
off,  as  I  have  done."  Very  recently  another  said,  "In  the 
midst  of  the  terrors  of  dissolution  and  despair,  I  say,  God 
will  punish  the  wicked.  0,  if  I  had  taken  good  advice  when 
it  was  given  me — but  now  it  is  too  late."  Yield  now  to 
God,  "  lest  thou  mourn  at  the  last,  when  thy  flesh  and  thy 
body  are  consumed,  and  say,  how  have  I  hated  instruction, 
and  my  heart  despised  reproof,  and  have  not  obeyed  the 
voice  of  my  teachers,  nor  inclined  mine  ear  to  them  that 
instructed  me."  Pull  not  away  the  shoulder,  nor  refuse  to 
hearken.  More  mournful  words  are  not  to  be  found  than 
those  which  delaying  sinners  will  use  in  the  end :  ''  The 
harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved." 
Oh,  what  words ! — not  saved — we  are  not  saved  ! 

Dear  reader,  decide.  Decide  now.  How  long  will  you 
hesitate  ?  Let  not  thy  death  decide  thy  case.  Choose  life, 
that  you  may  live.  God  invites,  hell  threatens,  conscience 
urges,  thy  soul  is  perishing.     Oh,  Don't  put  it  off. 


r'UBLISHED  BY   THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


JVo.  369. 

THE 


TIME  NOT  COME. 


When  the  Jews  were  carried  away  to  Babylon,  their 
temple,  the  most  splendid  building  in  the  world,  was  laid 
in  ruins.  After  the  captivity,  they  were  commanded  by 
God  to  rebuild  it,  and  to  restore  the  rites  of  the  ceremonitd 
worship.  Accordingly,  they  commenced  the  work  with  a 
zeal  so  earnest  and  vigorous  as  to  promise  its  speedy  com- 
pletion. Being  engrossed,  however,  at  first  by  the  opposi- 
tion of  their  enemies,  and  afterwards  by  their  own  selfish 
pursuits,  they  began  to  be  satisfied  that  God's  house  should 
remain  waste ;  and  not  only  so,  but  glad  of  any  pretence 
by  which  they  might  plausibly  excuse  their  guilty  negligence 
in  omitting  to  rebuild  it.  They  did  not  positively  refuse  to 
engage  in  the  work :  tliis  they  hardly  dared  to  do ;  but 
they  endeavored  to  satisfy  their  consciences  with  the  quiet- 
ing and  plausible  plea,  "  The  time  is  not  yet  come — the  time 
that  the  Lord^s  house  should  he  built.'' 

Alas,  the  children  of  Judah  are  not  the  only  ones 
chargeable  with  the  folly  and  the  guilt  of  postponing  duty. 
The  same  procrastinating  spirit  still  exists,  all  around  us,  to 
the  injury  of  the  cause  of  Christ — to  the  ruin  of  multitudes 
of  souls.  There  are  many,  very  many  duties,  which  we 
admit  are  duties,  which  we  dare  not  refuse  ever  to  perform, 
and  yet  which  we  are  prone  to  defer  to  some  future  season ; 
neglecting  them  for  the  present,  on  the  plea  that  we  will 
attend  to  them  hereafter ;  saying  to  ourselves,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  a  self-deceiving  heart,  "  The  time  is  not  yet  come^ 

Let  me  fix  your  attention,  for  a  few  moments,  on  some 
INSTANCES  evincing  this  spirit,  and  on  a  few  of  the  many 
MOTIVES  which  should  urge  you  to  avoid  it.  It  is  on  this 
plea  that, 

1.  Multitudes  of  the  impenitent  are  deferring  the  great 
work  of  personal  salvation.  You  not  only  acknowledge,  but 
to  some  extent /eeZ,  that  the  concerns  of  eternity  are  of  the 
highest  importance.     Perhaps  you  are  the  child  of  pious 


THE  TIME  NOT  COME. 


parents,  or  surrounded  by  Christian  friends.  You  often 
think,  and  hear  the  Gospel,  or  read  the  word  of  God.  And 
you  know  that  you  must  be  converted,  or  you  can  never  see 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  The  truth  is  impressed  on  your 
conscience  by  sober  reflection,  by  affliction,  by  the  prospect 
of  death,  or  by  some  alarming  providence.  At  such  seasons, 
when  God  is  very  near,  it  is  not  unusual  for  you  to  resolve 
that  you  will  forsake  your  sins — that  you  will  attend,  in 
serious  earnest,  to  your  soul.  You  feel  that  this  is  right, 
and  wise,  and  best ;  that  your  present  course  is  at  war  with 
reason,  and  gratitude,  and  conscience,  and  all  your  better 
feelings,  and  all  your  nobler  prospects ;  that  you  must  and 
will  forsake  it,  and  that  delay  is  folly,  presumption,  mad- 
ness, death  !  And  yet  you  rest  satisfied  now,  with  the  reso- 
lution to  do  in  future.  You  will  not  forswear  religion  for 
ever  :  you  will  merely  postpone  it  just  for  the  present. 
And  having  thus  soothed  the  voice  of  conscience,  and  com- 
promised with  the  pressure  of  instant  obligation,  you  are 
satisfied  to  dismiss  the  subject  till  some  more  convenient 
season  :  satisfied  I  as  if  it  were  any  less  hazardous  to  neglect 
heaven,  than  to  reject  it — to  disregard  damnation,  than  to 
brave  it. 

So  it  may  be  with  you,  if  in  youth.  You  often  feel  that 
religion  is  important,  and  important  now.  The  promises  to 
the  young  sound  powerfully  on  your  ears.  Conscience 
urges  you  to  repentance,  or  upbraids  you  for  its  neglect. 
But  your  heart  is  averse  from  duty  and  from  God,  and  is 
fixed  with  relentless,  though  perhaps  not  thoughtless  grasp 
on  folly,  and  self,  and  sin.  You  are  not  willing  to  renounce 
Christ /o?'  ever,  but  you  would  be  excused /or  the  present — 
for  a  few  more  years — for  a  little  more  of  worldly  and  sinful 
enjoyment — to  rivet  still  faster  upon  your  own  soul  the 
shackles  of  despair  and  death. 

And  so  it  may  be,  if  you  are  grown  up  to  manhood.  Now, 
business,  ambition,  pleasure,  Avealth,  may  have  taken  the 
place  of  youthful  folly,  but,  alas,  to  the  continued  exclusion 
of  religion  from  your  present  acceptance.  There  are  times 
when  you  are  obliged  to  think — when  your  aspirations  flit 
for  a  little  season  above  the  world ;  when  conscience,  now 
in  whispers,  and  now  in  thunders,  chides  you  for  living  in 
sin ;  and  when  death,  and  judgment,  and  your  own  future 
destiny,  are  pressed  upon  your  mind  with  intense  and  mourn- 


THE  TIME  NOT  COME.  3 

fill  weight.  And  what  is  your  refuge  ?  Do  you  repent, 
and  fly  to  Christ  ?  No  ;  you  do  not  even  promise  to  do  this 
7101V.  You  merely  resolve  that  when  this  or  that  pressing 
business  is  over  ;  when  so  much  is  accumulated  ;  when  this 
plan  is  perfected,  or  that  end  gained,  then  you  ivill  seek  the 
favor  of  God ;  not  thinking,  heedless  mortal,  that  before 
you  reach  that  point,  death  may  fix  an  impassable  gulf  be- 
tween it  and  your  immortal  soul.  Thus  you  go  on  from  year 
to  year,  perhaps  to  old  age,  still  evading  the  claims  of  con- 
science and  of  God ;  Avasting  probation,  steeling  your  soul 
against  offered  mercy,  and  gathering  wrath,  and  closing  your 
eyes  to  the  prospect,  while  you  madly  rush  on  to  the  cer- 
tainty of  endless  woe.  To  all  the  overtures  of  reason,  and 
conscience,  and  God,  your  reply  is,  "  The  time  is  not  yet 
corned  And  that  cry  you  seem  likely  to  continue  till  your 
voice  is  hushed  in  death,  and  you  learn  the  extent  of  your 
folly  in  the  bitterness  of  despair.  While  replying  to  every 
heavenly  demand  and  invitation,  *'the  time  has  not  come," 
beware  lest  you  find  in  your  own  fearful  experience,  that 
the  time  has  come  which  has  sealed  your  endless  doom,  and 
made  you  an  outcast  from  God  for  ever.     This  plea  also, 

2.  Extends  its  influence  more  or  less  to  many  of  the 
duties  of  the  Christian  life.  In  almost  every  department 
of  duty,  instead  of  regarding  obstacles  as  designed  for  the 
trial  of  your  sincerity  and  faith,  and  instead  of  resolving  in 
God's  strength  to  overcome  them,  not  by  delay,  but  by  im- 
mediate effort,  you  are  prone  to  wait  for  their  removal — 
prone  to  imagine  that  you  will  be  better  fitted,  or  more  dis- 
posed for  effort  in  future  than  you  now  are.  The  impeni- 
tent are  to  be  warned,  or  the  erring  Christian  reproved,  and 
from  fear  of  giving  off'ence,  you  defer  the  duty.  The  cause 
of  benevolence  is  to  be  advanced,  or  the  tide  of  guilt  to  be 
rolled  backward,  but  you  are  content  for  the  present  to  leave 
the  work  to  others.  The  duty  requires  time,  and  selfishness 
suggests  that  it  cannot  be  spared  from  business.  It  demands 
expense,  and  avarice  whispers,  "  wait  a  little  longer,  till  your 
riches  are  increased."  It  needs  united  effort,  and  from  dread 
of  opposition,  or  reproach,  or  singularity,  you  suffer  the 
cause  of  truth  to  languish,  till  all  shall  be  of  one  mind,  which 
can  never  be  expected. 

So  too  with  numberless  specific  duties  to  yourself,  to 
friends,  to  society,  and  to  God.     You  are  neglectful  of  fam- 


4  THE  TIME  NOT  COME. 

ily  or  secret  prayer,  of  self-examination  or  self-denial ;  your 
example  is  inconsistent,  your  spirit  unhumbled,  your  conduct 
marked  by  austerity  or  folly — and  you  rarely  or  never  speak 
for  God  and  religion  to  those  who  are  neglecting  or  despis- 
ing both. 

And  now  I  ask,  as  in  God's  name,  "  Are  you  living  as  in 
soberness  and  truth  you  know  you  ought  to  live  ?"  You 
admit  that  you  are  not.  ''And  when,"  I  ask,  *'do  you 
intend  to  change  your  course ;  when  live  the  life  of  the 
devoted  Christian ;  when  be  more  prayerful,  and  zealous, 
and  self-denying,  and  holy ;  when  make  growth  in  grace 
and  the  highest  usefulness  the  great  end  of  your  being; 
when  be  more  spiritually  minded,  more  diligent  in  self-exam- 
ination, more  decidedly  the  friend  of  God,  more  conformed 
to  the  example,  and  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  Jesus  ?" 
Alas,  the  answer  of  your  conduct  is,  '*  The  time  is  not  yet 
comey  And  thus  temptation  adds  strength  to  her  grasp, 
and  the  prince  of  darkness  power  to  his  chains ;  and  you 
are  preparing  yourself  either  to  be  scourged  back  to  duty 
by  some  fearful  judgment,  or  to  be  left  of  God  to  slumber 
on  in  hardness  of  heart  and  negligence  of  duty,  till  you  are 
waked  by  the  fires  of  perdition,  to  find  that  your  hope  was 
that  of  the  hypocrite,  which  shall  perish  like  the  "  spider's 
web,"  when  God  shall  take  away  the  soul. 

3.  This  spirit  also  very  frequently  operates  to  prevent 
full  2oreparatioii  for  death.  Whoever  you  are,  reader,  you 
are  not  as  fully  prepared  for  death  as  you  could  wish  to 
be.  You  look  forward  to  the  hour  when  the  king  of  terrors 
shall  call  you  hence — when  friends  shall  surround  you  in 
weeping  silence — when  strength  shall  be  weakness — when 
paleness  shall  gather  upon  your  brow,  or  fever  scorch  your 
cheek — when  the  brain  shall  throb  with  its  last  agony,  and 
the  heart  with  its  last  pulsation — when  the  spirit  shall  be 
torn  from  its  tenement  of  flesh,  and  borne  away  to  the 
judgment.  You  look  forward  to  these  things,  and  if  im- 
penitent, you  shrink  back  with  shuddering  dread  ;  and  even 
if  a  Christian,  you  think  it  would  be  well  to  be  more  es- 
tranged from  the  world  than  you  now  are,  before  that  hour 
shall  come.  You  resolve  that  you  luill  be.  But  still  you 
put  off  the  evil  day,  and  treat  death  as  far  distant,  and  think 
all  men  mortal  but  yourself.  Though  commanded  by  Christ 
to  be  ever  ready,  as  you  know  not  the  hour  of  his  appear- 


THE  TIME  NOT  COME.  5 

ance,  you  still  persuade  yourself  that  *'  the  time  is  not  yet 
come."  Like  the  evil  servant,  you  say,  ''  My  Lord  delayeth 
his  coming-;"  and  while,  in  consequence,  you  delay  prepar- 
ing to  meet  him,  he  comes,  and  finds  you  unprepared. 
Instead  of  having  your  loins  girded  about,  and  your  lamps 
trimmed  and  burning,  you  are  as  much  engrossed  in  busi- 
ness and  the  world,  as  though  "  eternity"  were  stamped 
upon  all  around  you,  and  you  had  a  title  to  its  full  posses- 
sion. 

Such  are  a  few  of  the  many  instances  which  may  illus- 
trate the  evil  influence  of  procrastination  in  matters  of  relig- 
ion. Let  me  now  present  some  of  the  motives  luhich  urge 
you  to  avoid  it. 

1.  The  spirit  of  procrastination  is  directly  opposed  to  the 
plain  commands  of  God.  The  entire  scope  of  Scripture 
injunctions  is,  that  you  attend  to  duty  at  once,  and  without 
delay.  "Seek  fiist  the  kingdom  of  God."  "Work  while 
it  is  called  to-day."  "  To-day,  if  you  will  hear  his  voice." 
"  JVow  is  the  accepted  time."  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand  fin'deth 
to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might ;  for  there  is  no  work,  nor  device, 
nor  wisdom,  nor  knowledge  in  the  grave,  whither  thou  goest." 
These  injunctions  are  not  only  binding  in  general,  but  they 
are  to  be  carried  out  and  obeyed  in  all  the  jmrticulars  of 
life.  If  trials  and  difficulties  beset  your  path,  still  the  com- 
mand is  unchanged.  You  are  at  once  to  deny  yourself,  and 
take  up  the  cross  and  follow  Christ.  Whatever  your  con- 
dition, that  is  the  post  of  duty  assigned  you  by  God,  and 
in  it  he  calls  upon  you  now  to  serve  and  glorify  him  :  if 
in  poverty,  by  contentment ;  if  afflicted,  by  patience ;  if 
bereaved,  by  submission ;  if  persecuted,  by  meekness  ;  if 
opposed,  by  firmness  ;  if  injured,  by  forgiveness ;  if  tempted, 
by  denying  yourself  for  his  sake.  Nor  can  these  duties  be 
performed  at  other  times,  and  when  your  circumstances  are 
changed.  They  must  be  attended  to  now ;  and  to  defer 
them  to  some  future  and  uncertain  season,  is  a  virtual  refu- 
sal to  perform  them  at  all — is  direct  opposition  to  the  plain 
command  of  God. 

2.  To  put  off  to  the  future  the  duties  that  now  claim 
your  attention,  implies  a  lurking  dislike  to  the  duties  them- 
selves. Whatever  aftbrds  you  delight,  you  are  eager  at  once 
to  seek  or  do.  You  give  yourself  no  rest  till  it  is  gained 
or  accomplished.     If  the  hearts  of  the  Jews  had  been  fixed, 

VOL.  .\.  VZ 


6  THE  TIME  NOT  COME. 

bent,  set  upon  building  the  temple,  they  would  never  have 
urged  that  the  time  was  not  come.  And  if  your  heart  is 
fixed  supremely  upon  doing  the  will  of  God,  you  will  never 
plead  for  delay.  With  you,  as  with  them,  postponement  of 
duty  must  flow  from  secret  dislike  to  it — from  alienation  of 
heart  from  God,  which  is  deeply  offensive  in  his  sight. 

3.  Such  delay  ivill  subject  you  to  many  inevitable  and 
irretrievable  losses.  Time  is  wasted,  which  can  return  no 
more — grace  is  wasted,  for  it  is  neglected  or  abused  to  your 
own  hurt.  And  opportunities  of  doing  and  getting  good, 
are  recklessly  squandered  for  ever.  You  delay  the  refor- 
mation of  little  errors  in  conduct,  and  soon  you  are  marked 
by  the  community  as  an  inconsistent  Christian.  You  neg- 
lect for  a  season  the  religious  education  of  your  children, 
and  before  you  are  aware  they  are  fixed  in  wickedness. 
You  neglect  to  control  them,  to  train  them  to  obedience, 
and  soon  they  have  grown  up  with  turbulent,  and  unsub- 
missive, and  unkind  tempers,  to  be  sources  of  constant  un- 
happiness  to  themselves,  and  of  pitying  regret  to  others. 
You  hesitate  noiv  to  stem  the  inroads  of  infidelity  and  Sab- 
bath-breaking, and  soon  they  gather  boldness,  and  walk 
abroad  with  reckless  hand  and  unblushing  front.  You  post- 
pone the  discipline  of  your  own  spirit,  and  soon  you  are 
known  as  the  creature  of  wayward  and  sinful  impulse — of 
fitful  and  useless  effort.  You  allow  the  presence  of  impure 
thoughts,  and  soon  your  soul  is  a  living  brothel.  You  in- 
dulge for  a  little  the  risings  of  envy,  and  soon  your  bosom 
is  an  earthly  hell.  You  defer  attending  to  religion  till  some 
future  hour,  but  ere  it  arrives,  death  has  stopped  your 
breath,  and  consigned  your  body  to  the  sepulchre  and  your 
soul  to  perdition.  You  put  off  the  commencement  of  se- 
rious effort  to  grow  in  grace,  and  in  a  little  while  your  stand- 
ard of  Christian  character  becomes  fixed,  and  that  at  an 
elevation  far  below  your  privilege  and  your  duty.  You 
hesitate  to  admonish  that  errino-  Christian,  and  soon  he  goes 
on  to  disgrace  his  profession.  You  delay  to  warn  that 
thoughtless  sinner,  and  soon  he  dies  and  his  soul  is  lost ; 
and  as  he  is  tossed  through  a  long  eternity  upon  the  billows 
of  burning  wrath,  he  may  for  ever  curse  you,  as  the  guilty 
cause  of  his  ruin  and  woe. 

Now,  in  all  these  things  you  did  not  intend  to  incur  such 
immense,  irretiievable  loss.     You  did  not  intend  to  neo-lect 


THE  TIME  NOT  CO.ATE.  7 

effort  for  ever.  You  merely  said  to  the  demands  of  duty, 
"  The  time  is  not  yet  come  f  and  thus  you  have  brought 
upon  yourself  results  of  woe,  which  will  either  aggravate 
your  anguish  in  the  world  of  despair,  or  the  remembrance 
of  which,  if  there  were  grief  in  heaven,  would  cause  you 
to  weep  bitter,  scalding  tears,  even  before  the  throne  of 
God. 

Would  you  avoid  such  results  ?  Then  let  me  urge  you 
to  do,  and  to  do  at  once,  and  to  do  with  your  might,  what- 
ever your  hands  find,  and  your  conscience,  or  the  word  of 
God,  commands  you  to  do,  for  your  God,  for  yourself,  for 
a  world  lying  in  wickedness. 

Christian — If  you  cire  delaying  duty,  you  are  living 
at  war  with  profession,  and  privilege,  and  interest,  and  con- 
science. You  are  taking  the  most  effectual  course  to  destroy 
your  comfort,  and  disgrace  your  profession,  and  limit  your 
usefulness,  and  blight  your  hopes.  Remember,  I  beseech 
you,  that  the  eye  of  God,  and  the  vows  of  God  are  upon 
you.  Waste  not,  then,  your  only  day  of  usefulness,  your 
only  day  of  action  for  Christ  your  Redeemer,  and  for  man 
your  brother  :  waste  it  not  in  idle,  sinful,  ruinous  delay, 
when  "upon  every  passing  moment  are  hanging  the  glory  of 
God,  and  the  destiny  of  immortal  souls. 

Ye  too  who  are  thoughtless  in  sin,  I  beseech  you, 
be  warned  to  awake  to  the  claims  of  God — to  the  interests 
of  your  own  souls.  Trifle  no  longer  w^th  your  deathless 
spirits — no  longer  with  time — time,  which  is  so  uncertain 
in  continuance,  so  brief  in  duration,  so  swift  in  its  flight,  so 
soon  at  its  end.  Waste,  0  waste  not  your  probation ;  the 
turning  point,  the  crisis  of  your  existence ;  the  only  season 
in  which  sin  can  be  pardoned,  God's  favor  be  secured,  hell  be 
escaped,  and  heaven  be  won.  Soon  it  will  all  be  gone ;  and 
if  misimproved,  you  will  be  lost — for  ever  lost.  And  0, 
how  indescribably  keen  the  reflection,  as  you  look  back 
.  from  the  shores  of  a  wretched  eternity,  to  see  that  on  earth 
every  means  of  salvation  was  wasted  upon  you — wasted,  to 
your  own  endless  ruin — wasted,  because  when  God  was 
calling  you  to  the  skies,  your  answer  to  every  overture  of 
mercy  was,  *'  The  time  is  not  yet  come.''  How  bitter  in 
perdition  will  be  the  reflection,  that  your  time,  your  time  of 
salvation  never  came  ;  and  that  then  the  time  of  God's  lorath 
came,  and  that  you  are  sinking  under  its  endless,  its  ever- 


8  THE  TIME  NOT  COME. 

gathering  weight,  and  that  from  it  there  is,  there  can  be  no 
escape  ! 

You  have  gone,  with  a  company  of  friends,  down  into 
the  crater  of  a  slumberino-  volcano.  Presumino-  on  the  con- 
tinuance  of  its  present  quiet  and  stillness,  you  all  recline 
yourselves  to  rest,  and  soon  fall  asleep.  But  the  slumbers 
of  the  flaming  gulf  beneath  are  suddenly  broken.  Its  rum- 
blings are  heard — its  vapors  and  smoke  ascend — its  suftb- 
catino;  heat  is  felt.  Your  friends  are  waked  from  their 
sleep — they  see  their  danger,  and  they  rush  to  rouse  you, 
with  them  to  flee  for  life.  But  their  eftorts  are  in  vain. 
You  will  have  a  little  more  sleep,  a  little  more  slumber ; 
and  the  result  is,  that  your  companions  escape,  while  you 
are  left  to  perish.  How  fearful  your  situation  !  And  as  you 
should  sink  in  the  fiery  waves,  0  how  would  you  curse 
that  love  of  ease  which  led  you  to  indulge  yourself  a  little 
longer — that  delaying  spirit  which  led  you  to  sleep  on, 
when  the  billows  of  burning  death  were  rising,  and  gather- 
ing, and  dashing  to  overwhelm  you  ! 

But  what  is  ruin  like  this,  to  the  ruin  of  a  lost  soul  ? 
Nothinp- — less   than   nothino-.     The   time   is   comino-  when 

O  o  O 

even  the  volcano's  flames  would  be  a  refuge — when  to  be 
crushed  by  rocks  and  mountains  would  be  a  mercy — a 
mercy  to  be  desired  :  desired  in  vain !  Yes,  in  vain  ;  for, 
to  those  Avho  neglect  the  great  salvation,  there  will  then  be 
no  escape  from  the  overwhelming  wrath  of  God  and  of  the 
Lamb.  To-day  then,  reader,  I  entreat,  I  beseech  you, 
awake  to  duty.  Fly  to  Jesus  :  seek  his  pardoning  mercy 
before  it  be  for  ever  too  late,  "  Kiss  the  Son,  lest  he  be 
angry,  and  you  perish  from  the  way  when  his  wrath  is 
kindled  but  a  little," 

"  So  shall  that  curse  remove, 
By  which  the  Saviour  bled, 
And  the  last  awful  day  shall  pour 
His  blessings  on  your  head  !" 


PUBLISHED    BY  THE  AMERICAN  TR.4CT  SOCIETV. 


I¥o.  370. 
MEMOIR 


OF 


DR.  JOHN  D.  GODMAW, 

PROFESSOR    OF  ANATOMY,  AUTHOR  OF    "  ANATOMICAL  ILLUSTRATIONS,"  ETC. 


FROM  AN  INTRODUCTORY  LECTURE, 

BY   THOMAS    8EWALL,    M.  D., 

PROFESSOR    OF    ANATOMY    AND    PHYSIOLOGY     IN     THE    COLUMBIAN    COLLEGE, 
DISTRICT    OF    COLUMBIA. 


There  are  occasions  when  it  is  proper,  when  it  is  prof- 
itable, to  pause  in  the  career  of  life,  not  only  to  mark  the 
progress  of  things,  but  to  observe  the  character  of  men,  and 
more  especially  of  men  distinguished  for  eminent  success  or 
signal  failure,  that  we  may  emulate  the  examples  of  the  one, 
and  shun  the  misfortunes  of  the  other.  The  present  is  such 
an  occasion ;  and  if  properly  improved,  cannot  fail  to  instruct 
as  well  as  to  gratify. 

There  has  recently  appeared  among  us  a  man,  so  remark- 
able for  the  character  of  his  mind  and  the  qualities  of  his 
heart ;  one  whose  life,  though  short,  was  attended  with  such 
brilliant  displays  of  genius,  and  such  distinguished  success 
in  the  study  of  the  medical  profession  and  the  kindred  sci- 
ences, that  the  history  of  his  career,  and  the  prominent 
traits  of  his  character  as  exhibited  in  the  important  events 
of  his  life,  constitute  one  of  the  noblest  examples  of  the  age. 

Professor  Godman  was  born  in  the  city  of  Annapolis, 
'Maryland.  He  was  early  deprived  of  the  fostering  care 
which  flows  from  parental  solicitude  and  affection.  His 
mother  died  before  he  was  a  year  old,  and  his  father  did  not 
long  survive.     On  the  death  of  his  mother,  he  was  placed 

VOL.  X.  12^ 


2  MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN. 

■under  the  care  of  an  aunt,  then  residing  at  Wilmington,  in 
the  state  of  Delaware — a  lady  who,  from  the  superiority  of 
her  intellect  and  education,  as  well  as  the  sweetness  of  her 
disposition  and  her  elevated  piety,  was  eminently  qualified 
to  unfold,  impress,  and  direct  the  youthful  mind.  Under 
such  culture  he  received  the  first  rudiments  of  his  education 
and  his  earliest  moral  impressions.  His  alphabet  was  taught 
him  upon  the  knee  of  his  grandmother,  and  before  he  was 
two  years  old  he  was  able  to  read  in  the  Psalms. 

At  the  age  of  four  his  aunt  removed  from  Delaware  to 
Chestertown,  upon  the  eastern  shore  of  Maryland,  and  here 
she  first  placed  the  interesting  orphan  at  school.  He  had 
already  become  the  idol  of  the  family,  but  now  he  mani- 
fested such  a  precocity  of  intellect,  such  a  fondness  for 
books,  and  an  aptitude  to  learn,  and  withal  evinced  so  much 
sensibility,  frankness,  and  sweetness  of  disposition,  that  he 
gained  the  afiection  and  excited  the  admiration  of  all.  His 
reverence  for  truth  was  such,  even  from  his  infancy,  that  he 
was  never  known  to  equivocate.  At  the  age  of  six  his  aunt 
died,  and  he  was  left  Avithout  any  suitable  protector  or 
guide,  exposed  to  the  adversities  of  fortune  and  the  snares 
of  an  unfriendly  world.  But  it  appears  that  the  moral  and 
religious  impressions  which  had  already  been  made  upon 
his  mind,  though  obscured  for  a  time,  were  never  Avholly 
obliterated.  During  his  last  illness  he  was  often  heard  to 
speak  in  raptures  of  his  aunt,  and  say,  "  If  I  have  ever  been 
led  to  do  any  good,  it  has  been  through  the  influence  of  her 
example,  instruction,  and  prayers."  His  father  had  lost 
the  greater  part  of  his  estate  before  his  death,  and  that 
which  remained  never  came  into  the  hands  of  his  children. 
Young  Godman,  therefore,  was  early  taught  to  rely  on  his 
own  talents  and  industry.  In  this  situation  he  was  indented 
an  apprentice  to  a  printer  in  the  city  of  Baltimore  ;  but  the 
occupation  was  not  congenial  to  his  taste,  and  after  a  few 
years  he  left  the  business  in  disgust,  and  at  the  same  time 


MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GoDMAN.  3 

entered  as  a  sailor  on  board  the  flotilla,  which  was  then,  the 
fall  of  1814,  stationed  in  the  Chesapeake  Bay.  At  the  close 
of  the  war,  having  arrived  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  he  was  per- 
mitted to  pursue  the  inclination  of  his  own  mind,  and  imme- 
diately commenced  the  study  of  medicine.  So  indefatigable 
was  he  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  that  he  left  no  op- 
portunity of  advancement  unimproved,  and  notwithstanding 
the  deficiencies  of  his  preparatory  education,  he  pressed 
forward  with  an  energy  and  perseverance  that  enabled  him 
to  rival  all  his  fellows,  and  graduated  before  he  was  twenty 
years  old,  in  the  University  of  Maryland,  with  the  highest 
honors. 

He  settled  for  a  short  time  in  the  practice  of  medicine ; 
but  was  soon  called  to  the  professorship  of  anatomy  in  the 
Medical  College  of  Ohio.  After  one  year  he  left  the  West, 
and  opened  a  school  of  anatomy  in  Philadelphia,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  medical  classes  of  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania. 

After  he  had  here  prosecuted  his  anatomical  studies  for 
four  or  five  years,  his  reputation  as  an  anatomist  became  so 
generally  known,  that  the  eyes  of  the  profession  were 
directed  to  him  from  every  part  of  the  country  ;  and  in  1826 
he  was  called  to  fill  the  chair  of  anatomy  in  Rutgers'  Medi- 
cal College,  in  the  city  of  New  York.  This  situation,  as 
well  as  every  other  in  which  he  had  been  placed,  he  sus- 
tained with  a  popularity  almost  unparalleled.  He  never 
exhibited  in  public  but  he  gathered  around  him  an  admir- 
ing audience,  who  hung  with  delight  Aipon  his  lips.  But 
the  duties  of  the  chair,  together  with  his  other  scientific 
pursuits,  were  too  arduous,  and  the  climate  too  rigorous  for 
a  constitution  already  subdued  by  labor  and  broken  by  dis- 
ease ;  and  before  he  had  completed  his  second  course  of 
lectures,  he  was  compelled  to  retire  from  the  school,  and 
seek  a  residence  in  a  milder  climate.  He  repaired  with  his 
family  to  one  of  the  West  India  islands,  and  remained  till 


MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN. 


the  approach  of  summer,  when  he  returned  and  settled  in 
Germantown.  Here  and  in  Philadelphia  he  spent  the 
remainder  of  his  life,  which  was  principally  devoted  to  com- 
posing works  for  the  press. 

The  productions  of  Dr.  Godman's  pen,  and  the  fruits 
of  his  labor,  are  too  numerous  to  be  specified.  Among- 
them  will  be  found,  "  Anatomical  Investigations,  compris- 
ing a  Description  of  various  Fasciae  of  the  Human  Body  ;" 
"  An  account  of  some  Irregularities  of  Structure,  and  Mor- 
bid Anatomy  ;"  "  Contributions  to  Physiological  and  Path- 
ological Anatomy;"  ''A  System  of  Natural  History  of 
American  Quadrupeds;"  "An  Edition  of  Bell's  Anatomy, 
with  Notes  ;"  "  Rambles  of  a  Naturalist ;"  and  several  arti- 
cles on  natural  history,  for  the  American  Encyclopedia,  be- 
sides numerous  papers  which  have  appeared  in  the  periodi- 
cal journals  of  the  day.  At  one  time  he  was  the  principal 
editor  of  the  "Philadelphia  Journal  of  the  Medical  and 
Physical  Sciences."  Some  time  before  his  death  he  pub- 
lished a  volume  of  Addresses  which  he  had  delivered  on 
different  public  occasions.  Most  of  these  admired  produc- 
tions have  been  before  the  public  for  a  considerable  time ; 
have  been  received  with  high  approbation,  and  several  of 
them  have  been  favorably  noticed,  and  even  republished  in 
foreign  countries. 

His  intellectual  character  was  very  extraordinary.  He 
possessed  all  the  characteristic  features  of  a  mind  of  the 
highest  order.  Naturally  bold,  ardent,  and  enterprising, 
he  never  stopped  to  calculate  consequences,  so  far  as  they 
regarded  himself ;  but  rushed  forward  with  impetuosity  to 
perform  whatever  he  undertook.  Great  and  lofty  intel- 
lectual purposes  seemed  to  be  the  natural  element  in  which 
he  lived.  His  perception  was  quick  and  accurate  ;  his  mem- 
ory exceedingly  retentive  ;  and  he  possessed  an  uncommon 
facility  of  abstracting  his  attention  from  surrounding  objects, 
and  of  concentrating  all  his  powers  upon  the  subject  of  his 


MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN.  5 

pursuit.  It  was  this  latter  trait  of  mind,  no  doubt,  which 
gave  such  effect  to  all  his  efforts  ;  while  he  was  indebted  to 
the  power  of  his  memory  for  the  remarkable  facility  he  pos- 
sessed of  acquiring  languages  ;  for  although  his  early  edu- 
cation had  been  exceedingly  limited,  he  acquired  such  a 
knowledge  of  the  Latin,  Greek,  French,  German,  Danish, 
Spanish,  and  Italian  languages,  as  to  read  and  translate 
them  with  fluency,  and  to  write  several  of  them  with  ele- 
gance. His  quick  and  discriminating  powers  of  observation 
naturally  inclined  him  to  notice  the  habits  and  economy  of 
animals,  and  gave  him  his  taste  for  the  study  of  natural 
history. 

His  powers  of  description  and  illustration  imparted  fresh- 
ness and  splendor  to  every  thing  he  touched.  All  his  con- 
ceptions were  strong,  clear,  and  original ;  and  he  possessed 
the  power  of  holding  before  him  whatever  object  engaged 
his  attention,  till  all  its  parts  and  relations  were  brought  to 
view.  By  those  who  have  listened  to  his  extemporaneous 
discussions,  it  is  said,  that  while  he  was  speaking,  a  thou- 
sand images  seemed  to  cluster  around  the  subject,  and  that 
he  had  just  time  to  select  such  as  imparted  beauty,  or  fur- 
nished the  happiest  illustration  of  the  object  he  wished  to 
explain.  Yet,  while  he  possessed  all  this  richness  and  fer- 
tility of  mind,  taste  and  judgment  ever  controlled  its  opera- 
tions. 

He  was  a  laborious  and  untiring  student,  and  possessed 
in  a  high  degree  the  requisites  of  all  true  intellectual  great- 
ness— the  habit  of  patient  investigation,  long-continued 
attention,  and  a  singular  love  of  labor.  "  How  often,"  says 
one  to  whom  he  unbosomed  the  secrets  of  his  heart,  "  have 
I  entreated  him,  while  poring  half  the  night  over  his  books 
and  papers — how  often  have  I  begged  him  to  consider  his 
health  ;  but  his  ambition  and  thirst  for  knowledge  were 
such,  that  having  commenced  an  investigation,  or  a  language, 
no  difficulty  could  stop  him  ;  and  what  he  had  no  time  to 


6  MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN. 

accomplish  in  the  daj^,  he  would  do  at  night,  instead  of 
enjoying  that  rest  of  which  he  stood  in  so  much  need." 

It  has  been  truly  and  happily  said  by  one  who  knew 
him  intimately,  that  his  eagerness  in  the  pursuit  of  know- 
ledge seemed  like  the  impulse  of  gnawing  hunger  and  an 
unquenchable  thirst,  which  neither  adversity  nor  disease 
could  allay.  Variety  of  occupations  was  the  only  relaxa- 
tion which  he  souo-ht  or  desired. 

He  composed  Avith  rapidity,  but  not  without  a  high 
degree  of  intellectual  excitement,  and  the  most  abstracted 
attention.  Under  such  an  influence,  some  of  his  best  essays 
were  sent  to  the  press  as  they  first  came  from  his  pen,  Avith- 
out  the  smallest  correction. 

There  haA^e  been  but  feAv  men  more  variously  gifted  by 
nature,  or  more  nobly  distinguished  by  industry  and  zeal, 
than  Dr.  Godman.  Notwithstanding  all  the  disadvantages 
under  which  he  labored,  he  became  "  one  of  the  most  ac- 
complished general  scholars  and  linguists,  acute  and  erudite 
naturalists,  ready,  pleasing,  and  instructive  lecturers  and 
writers  of  his  country  or  era.  He  prosecuted  extensive  and 
diversified  researches,  composed  superior  disquisitions  and 
revieAvs,  and  large  and  valuable  volumes,"  and  he  imparted 
a  freshness  and  vigor  to  every  thing  he  touched. 

But  there  remains  another  vieAv  of  Dr.  Godman — his 
MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  CHARACTER,  which  Avas  SO  admirable, 
so  strongly  draAvn,  and  so  worthy  of  imitation,  that  it  can- 
not be  Avithheld,  and  Avhich  proved  his  solace  in  sickness, 
cheered  him  as  he  approached  the  valley  of  death,  and  shed 
light  and  immortality  around  his  dying  bed. 

Unhappily  he  had  formed  his  philosophical  and  religious 
opinions  after  the  model  of  the  French  naturalists  of  the 
last  century,  the  most  distinguished  of  Avhom  Avere  deists 
and  atheists  ;  and  such  is  man  in  his  natural,  his  fallen  con- 
dition, that  even  while  surrounded  by  the  most  magnificent 


MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAF.  7 

displays  of  divine  power  and  wisdom,  and  with  his  eyes 
directed  to  those  very  objects,  and  his  attention  arrested  by 
those  very  hiws  which  prochiim  the  existence  and  the  pres- 
ence of  an  almighty  power,  he  overlooks  and  passes  by  the 
evidences  they  furnish  of  the  existence  of  a  Deity  ;  and  this 
often  under  the  specious  but  delusive  pretext  of  casting  off 
the  shackles  of  prejudice  and  superstition,  and  of  giving  the 
reins  to  free,  enlightened,  and  philosophical  inquiry.  It 
was  the  case  with  Dr.  Godman ;  for  while  assisted  by  such 
lights  as  these,  and  guided  alone  in  his  investigations  by 
perverted  reason,  he  became,  as  he  tells  us,  an  established 
infidel,  rejecting  revelation,  and  casting  all  the  evidences  of 
an  existing  God  beneath  his  feet. 

It  was  not  till  the  Avinter  of  182Y,  while  engaged  in  his 
course  of  lectures  in  New  York,  that  he  was  arrested  in 
his  career,  and  brought  to  an  experimental  knowledge  of  the 
truth.  At  this  time  an  incident  occurred  which  led  him  to 
a  candid  perusal  of  the  gospels,  as  contained  in  the  New 
Testament.  It  was  a  visit  to  a  death-bed — the  death- bed 
of  a  Christian — the  death-bed  of  a  student  of  medicine. 
There  he  saw  what  reason  could  not  explain,  nor  philosophy 
fathom.  He  opened  his  Bible,  and  the  secret  was  unfolded. 
From  this  time  he  became  a  devoted  student  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. How  far  they  were  made  the  efficient  cause  of  his 
conversion  to  Christianity  will  best  appear  from  his  own 
eloquent  pen. 

To  a  medical  friend.  Dr.  Judson,  of  Washington  cit}'-, 
a  surgeon  in  the  navy  of  the  United  States,  who  was  at  that 
time  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption,  he  wrote  as  follows : 

"  Germantown,  Dec.  25,  1828. 

"  In  relation  to  dying,  my  dear  friend,  you  talk  like  a 

sick  man,  and  just  as  I  used  to  do  when  very  despondent ; 

death  is  a  debt  we  all  owe  to  nature,  and  must  eventually 

ensue  from  a  mere  wearino;  out  of  the  machine,  if  not  from 


8  MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN. 

disease.  The  time  when,  makes  no  difference  in  the  act  of 
dying  to  the  individual ;  for  after  all,  it  terminates  in  corpo- 
real insensibility,  let  the  preceding  anguish  be  never  so 
severe.  Nature  certainly  has  a  strong  abhorrence  to  this 
cessation  of  corporeal  action,  and  all  animals  have  a  dread 
of  death  who  are  conscious  of  its  approach.  A  part  of  our 
dread  of  death  is  purely  physical,  and  is  avoidable  only  by 
a  philosophical  conviction  of  its  necessity ;  but  the  greater 
part  of  our  dread,  and  the  terrors  with  which  the  avenues 
to  the  grave  are  surrounded,  are  from  another  and  a  more 
potent  source.  '  'Tis  conscience  that  makes  cowards  of  us 
all,'  and  forces  us  by  our  terrors  to  confess  that  we  dread 
something  beyond  physical  dissolution,  and  that  we  are  ter- 
rified, not  at  merely  ceasing  to  breathe,  but  that  we  have 
not  lived  as  we  ought  to  have  done,  have  not  effected  the 
good  that  was  within  the  compass  of  our  abilities,  and  neg- 
lected to  exercise  the  talents  we  possessed  to  the  greatest 
advantage.  The  only  remedy  for  this  fear  of  death  is  to  be 
sought  by  approaching  the  Author  of  all  things  in  the  way 
prescribed  by  himself,  and  not  according  to  our  own  foolish 
imaginations.  Humiliation  of  pride,  denial  of  self,  subjec- 
tion of  evil  tempers  and  dispositions,  and  an  entire  submis- 
sion to  his  will  for  support  and  direction,  are  the  best  pre- 
paratives for  such  an  approach.  A  perusal  of  the  gospels, 
in  a  spirit  of  real  inquiry  after  a  direction  how  to  act,  will 
certainly  teach  the  way.  In  these  gospels  the  Saviour  him- 
self has  preached  his  own  doctrines,  and  he  who  runs  may 
read.  He  has  prescribed  the  course ;  he  shows  how  the 
approval  and  mercy  of  God  may  be  won ;  he  shows  how 
awfully  corrupt  is  man's  nature,  and  how  deadly  his  pride 
and  stubbornness  of  heart,  which  cause  him  to  try  every 
subterfuge  to  avoid  the  humiliating  confession  of  his  own 
weakness,  ignorance,  and  folly.  But  the  same  blessed  hand 
has  stripped  death  of  all  the  terrors  which  brooded  around 
the  grave,  and  converted  the  gloomy  receptacle  of  our  mor- 


MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN.  9 

tal  remains  into  the  portal  of  life  and  light,  0,  let  me  die 
the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  and  future 
state  be  like  his. 

"  This  is  all  I  know  on  the  subject.  I  am  no  theologian, 
and  have  as  great  an  aversion  to  priestcraft  as  one  can 
entertain.  I  was  once  an  infidel,  as  I  told  you  in  the  West 
Indies.  I  became  a  Christian  from  conviction,  produced  by 
the  candid  inquiry  recommended  to  you.  I  know  of  no 
other  way  in  which  death  can  be  stripped  of  its  terrors  ; 
certainly  none  better  can  be  wished.  Philosophy  is  a  fool, 
and  pride  a  madman.  Many  persons  die  with  what  is  called 
manly  firmness  ;  that  is,  having  acted  a  part  all  their  lives, 
according  to  their  prideful  creed,  they  must  die  game.  They 
put  on  as  smooth  a  face  as  they  can,  to  impose  on  the  spec- 
tators and  die  firmly.  But  this  is  all  deception ;  the  true 
state  of  their  minds  at  the  very  time,  nine  times  out  of  ten, 
is  worse  than  the  most  horrible  imaginings  even  of  hell 
itself.  Some  who  have  led  lives  adapted  to  sear  their  con- 
science and  petrify  all  the  moral  sensibilities,  die  with  a  kind 
of  indifference  similar  to  that  with  which  a  hardened  con- 
vict submits  to  a  new  infliction  of  disgraceful  punishment. 
But  the  man  who  dies  as  a  man  ought  to  die,  is  the  hum- 
ble-minded, believing  Christian ;  one  who  has  tasted  and 
enjoyed  all  the  blessings  of  creation,  who  has  had  an  enlight- 
ened view  of  the  wisdom  and  glory  of  his  Creator  ;  who  has 
felt  the  vanity  of  merely  worldly  pursuits  and  motives,  and 
been  permitted  to  know  the  mercies  of  a  blessed  Redeemer 
as  he  approaches  the  narrow  house  appointed  for  all  the 
living. 

*'  Physical  death  may  cause  his  senses  to  shrink  and  fail 
at  the  trial ;  but  his  mind,  sustained  by  the  Rock  of  ages, 
is  serene  and  unwavering.  He  relies  not  on  his  own  right- 
eousness, for  that  would  be  vain ;  but  the  arms  of  mercy 
are  beneath  him,  the  ministering  spirits  of  the  Omnipotent 
are  around  him.  He  does  not  '  die  manfully,'  but  he  '  rests 
VOL.  X.  13 


10  MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN. 

in  Jesus ;'  he  blesses  his  friends,  he  casts  his  hope  on  One 
all-powerful  to  sustain  and  mighty  to  save,  then  sleeps  in 
peace.  He  is  dead,  but  liveth  ;  for  He  who  is  the  resur- 
rection and  the  life  has  declared,  '  Whoso  believeth  in  me, 
though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live :  and  whosoever 
liveth,  and  believeth  in  me,  shall  never  die.'  " 

This  letter,  which  so  truly  contrasts  the  death-bed  scene 
of  the  infidel  with  that  of  the  Christian,  so  beautifully  por- 
trays the  history  of  the  change  which  had  been  effected 
in  Dr.  Godman's  own  sentiments  and  affections,  and  so 
clearly  points  the  benighted  wanderer  to  the  true  source 
of  life  and  light,  was  not  lost  upon  his  friend  to  whom  it 
was  addressed.  It  described  his  condition,  and  it  reached 
his  heart. 

Dr.  Judson,  though  religiously  instructed  when  young, 
having  a  pious  clergyman  for  his  father,  and  another  for  his 
elder  brother,  the  distinguished  and  devoted  missionary  to 
Burmah,  yet  had  long  since  freed  himself  from  what  he 
called  the  prejudices  of  education,  the  shackles  of  priest- 
craft, and  was  ranging  the  fields  of  infidelity.  He  had  ac- 
quired wealth  and  reputation,  was  an  estimable  man  in  all 
the  domestic  relations  of  life,  and  a  highly  respected  mem- 
ber of  our  profession  ;  but  the  self-denying  doctrines  of  the 
Saviour  were  too  humbling  to  his  proud  spirit,  and  he  could 
not  submit  to  their  influence.  At  the  time  he  received  Dr. 
Godman's  letter,  however,  he  was  gloomy  and  despondent ; 
looking  forward  with  fearful  forebodings  to  the  period  of 
his  dissolution,  which  seemed  not  far  distant.  He  had  no 
confidence  but  that  of  the  sceptic — no  hope  but  that  of 
ceasinof  to  be.  Aware  of  the  fatal  nature  of  the  disease 
under  which  he  had  lingered  for  years,  he  had  long  been 
arming  himself  to  meet  the  king  of  terrors  with  composure, 
that  he  might  die  like  a  philosopher — "  with  manly  firm- 
ness ;''  but  as  he  drew  nearer  to  the  arrave,  the  clouds  and 


MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN.  H 

(f^arkness  thickened  around  him,  and  he  began  to  fear  that 
there  might  be  something  beyond  this  narrow  prison.  He 
had  hitherto  refused  all  religious  intercourse,  but  now  his 
infidelity  began  to  give  way,  and  he  inquired  with  solicitude, 
"  Is  there  such  a  thing  as  the  new  birth  ;  and  if  so,  in  what 
does  it  consist  ?"  He  was  directed  to  the  gospels  for 
the  answer.  He  at  length  consented  to  make  the  investi- 
gation recommended  by  Dr.  Godman.  He  took  up  the 
New  Testament,  and  read  it  in  the  spirit  of  candid  inquiry. 
A  conviction  of  the  truth  of  its  doctrines  fastened  upon  him. 
He  now  solicited  the  advice  and  prayers  of  a  pious  clergy- 
man. Yet  he  could  not  consent  to  relinquish  the  senti- 
ments which  he  had  so  long  cherished,  without  the  clearest 
proof,  and  he  disputed  every  inch  of  ground  with  great 
acuteness  and  ability ;  but  the  truth  was  exhibited  by  the 
venerable  divine  with  such  force  and  simplicity,  that  it  over- 
came every  argument  he  could  produce,  and  he  saw  clearly 
the  folly  of  his  sceptical  opinions.  The  clouds  were  dissi- 
pated, light  broke  in  upon  his  mind,  and  he  was  enabled  to 
take  hold  of  the  promises.  The  remaining  days  of  his  life 
were  devoted  to  fervent  prayer  and  the  constant  study  of 
the  Scriptures,  which  filled  his  soul  with  divine  composure, 
and  enabled  him  to  rely  with  undoubting  confidence  on  the 
infinite  merits  of  his  Redeemer,  and  with  his  last  breath  to 
cry,  "  Peace,  peace."  If  he  did  not  die  with  "  manly  firm- 
ness," he  "rested  in  Jesus." 

The  exercises  of  such  a  mind  as  Dr.  Godman's,  durinsr  a 
long  period  of  affliction,  cannot  fail  to  be  interesting  as  well 
to  the  philosopher  as  to  the  Christian,  and  more  especially 
as  expressed  by  himself.  I  shall  therefore  present  a  few 
brief  extracts  from  some  of  his  correspondence  of  that  pe- 
riod. 

"Philadelphia,  February  17,  1829. 
"  My  dear  Friend — Since  my  last  to  you,  my  health 
has  suffered  various  and  most  afflicting  changes.     The  unu- 


12  MEIVIOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN. 

sual  severity  of  the  weather,  and  other  scarcely  perceptible 
causes,  induced  an  attack  of  inflammation  in  the  diseased 
lung,  which,  in  my  enfeebled  condition,  required  more  of 
depletion  and  reduction  of  diet  than  could  be  readily  borne  ; 
hemorrhage  ensued  on  the  third  or  fourth  day,  which  re- 
lieved the  local  affection  considerably,  and  by  the  aid  of 
blistering  frequently,  and  perfect  rest,  I  gradually  amend- 
ed ;  still  the  great  suflfering,  caused  by  the  mental  and  cor- 
poreal debility,  was  beyond  any  thing  ever  before  expe- 
rienced by  me,  even  after  the  active  condition  of  disease  was 
checked.  But  thanks  to  the  mercies  of  Him  who  is  alone 
able  to  save,  the  valley  and  shadow  of  death  were  stripped 
of  their  terrors,  and  the  descent  to  the  grave  was  smoothed 
before  me.  Relying  on  the  mercies  and  infinite  merits  of 
the  Saviour,  had  it  pleased  God  to  call  me  then,  I  believe 
I  should  have  died  in  a  peaceful,  humble  confidence.  But 
I  have  been  restored  to  a  state  of  comparative  health,  per- 
haps nearly  to  the  condition  in  which  I  was  when  I  wrote 
to  Dr.  Judson ;  and  I  am  again  allowed  to  think  of  the  ed- 
ucation of  my  children  and  the  support  of  my  family. 
*'  Believe  me  truly  your  friend, 

'J.  D.  GODMAN. 
"Professor  Sewall." 

In  answer  to  a  suggestion  which  I  made  to  him  of  the 
propriety  of  leaving  behind  him  a  memoir  of  his  life,  he 
says,  "  It  has  long  been  my  intention,  as  my  life  has  been 
a  curious  one,  to  put  a  short  account  of  it  together  for  the 
benefit  of  my  children  and  others." 

It  appears,  however,  from  some  lines  he  wrote  at  a  later 
period  of  his  life,  that  he  never  accomplished  this  object ; 
for  in  a  manuscript  volume  which  he  sent  to  a  friend,  and 
which  he  intended  to  fill  with  original  pieces  of  his  own 
composition,  he  writes  as  follows. 

"  Did  I  not  in  all  things  feel  most  thoroughly  convinced 
that  the  overruling  of  our  plans  by  an  all- wise  Providence 


MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN.  13 

is  always  for  good,  I  might  regret  that  a  part  of  my  plan  can- 
not be  executed.  This  was,  to  relate  a  few  curious  incidents 
from  among  the  events  of  my  most  singularly  guided  life, 
which,  in  addition  to  mere  novelty  or  peculiarity  of  charac- 
ter, could  not  have  failed  practically  to  illustrate  the  impor- 
tance of  inculcating  correct  religious  and  moral  principles, 
and  imbuing  the  mind  therewith  from  the  veiy  earliest  dawn 
of  intellect,  from  the  very  moment  that  the  utter  imbecility 
of  infancy  begins  to  disappear.  May  His  holy  will  be  done, 
who  can  raise  up  abler  advocates  to  support  the  truth. 
This  is  my  first  attempt  to  write  in  my  token — why  may  it 
not  be  the  last  ?  0,  should  it  be,  believe  me  that  the  Avill 
of  God  will  be  most  acceptable.  Notwithstanding  the  life  of 
neglect,  sinfulness,  and  perversion  of  heart  which  I  so  long 
led  before  it  pleased  him  to  dash  all  my  idols  in  the  dust, 
I  feel  an  humble  hope  in  the  boundless  mercy  of  our  blessed 
Lord  and  Saviour,  who  alone  can  save  the  soul  from  merit- 
ed condemnation.  May  it  be  in  the  power  of  those  who 
chance  to  read  these  lines,  to  say.  Into  thy  hands  I  com- 
mend my  spirit,  for  thou  hast  redeemed  me,  0  Lord,  thou 
God  of  truth." 

On  my  communicating  to  Dr.  Godman  an  account  of  the 
last  moments  of  his  friend  Dr.  Judson,  he  responds  in  the 
following  feeling  and  beautiful  manner. 

"  Germantowi^,  May  21,  1829. 

*'  My  dear  Friend — I  feel  very  grateful  for  your  atten- 
tion in  sending  me  an  account  of  our  dear  Judson's  last 
moments.  After  all  his  doubts,  difficulties,  and  mental 
conflicts,  to  know  that  the  Father  of  mercies  was  pleased  to 
open  his  eyes  to  the  truth,  and  shed  abroad  in  his  heart  the 
love  and  salvation  off"ered  through  the  Redeemer,  is  to  me 
a  source  of  the  purest  gratification,  and  a  cause  of  the  most 
sincere  rejoicing.      The  bare  possibility  of  my  having  been 

VOL.  X.  13* 


14  MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN. 

even  slightly  instrumental  in  effecting  the  blessed  change 
of  mind  he  experienced,  excites  in  me  emotions  of  gratitude 
to  the  Source  of  all  good  which  words  cannot  express. 

"  My  health  has  been  in  a  very  poor  condition  since  my 
last  to  you.  My  cough  and  expectoration  have  been  gener- 
ally bad,  and  my  body  is  emaciated  to  a  very  great  degree. 
The  warm  weather  now  appears  to  have  set  in,  and  possibly 
I  may  improve  a  little  ;  otherwise,  it  will  not  be  long  before 
I  follow  our  lately  departed  friend.  Let  me  participate  in 
the  prayers  you  offer  for  the  sick  and  afflicted,  and  may 
God  grant  me  strength  to  die  to  his  honor  and  glory,  in  the 
hopes  and  constancy  derived  from  the  merits  and  atonement 
of  the  blessed  Saviour.  With  my  best  wishes  for  your 
health  and  prosperity,  I  remain  sincerely  yours, 

"J.  D.  GODMAN." 

"  Philadelphia,  October  6,  1829. 

'*  My  dear  Friend — My  health  is,  as  for  a  considerable 
time  past,  in  a  very  tolerable  condition  ;  that  is,  I  can  sit  up 
a  great  part  of  the  day,  writing  or  reading,  without  much 
injury.  My  emaciation  is  great,  and  though  not  very  rapid, 
is  steady,  so  that  the  change  in  my  strength  takes  place 
almost  imperceptibly.  On  the  whole,  though  I  suffer  great- 
ly, compared  with  persons  in  health,  yet  so  gently  have  the 
chastenings  of  the  Lord  fallen  upon  me,  that  I  am  hourly 
called  upon  for  thankfulness  and  gratitude  for  his  unfailing- 
mercies.  Equal  cause  have  I  had  for  rejoicing  that  I  have 
learned  to  put  my  whole  trust  in  him ;  as  he  has  raised  me 
up  help  and  fiiends  in  circumstances  which  seemed  to  ren- 
der even  hope  impossible,  and  has  blessed  me  and  mine 
with  peace  and  content  in  the  midst  of  all  afflictions,  trials, 
and  adversity. 

"  Knowing  experimentally  the  value  of  implicit  submis- 
sion of  all  thoughts  and  desires  to  his  most  holy  will,  it  is 
no  small  source  of  distress  to  me,  to  see  how  many  of  my 


iMEiMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN.  15 

most  valued  friends  live  in  the  habitual  neglect  of  a  happi- 
ness so  pure,  so  attainable,  and  admirable." 

Dr.  Godman's  religious  feelings,  though  ardent,  were 
not  bigoted.  In  him  religion  was  not  that  cold,  selfish,  and 
narrow  principle  which  shuts  out  from  one's  confidence  all 
not  of  his  own  faith ;  nor  did  it  consist  in  a  loud  profes- 
sion of  a  particular  doctrine  or  creed.  It  was  the  religion 
of  the  heart,  deep,  sincere,  and  as  comprehensive  as  the 
charity  of  Heaven ;  embracing  all  the  humble,  faithful,  and 
really  excellent  of  every  denomination  of  Christians. 

In  the  concluding  part  of  the  above  letter,  after  speak- 
ing of  the  different  religious  denominations  in  terms  of  great 
liberality  and  candor,  he  says, 

**  However,  I  find  all  really  religious  persons  to  be  of 
one  mind.  Those  who  have  drunk  at  the  undefiled  spring 
of  truth,  as  set  forth  in  the  New  Testament,  Avithout  ob- 
scuration of  human  creeds  or  tradition,  I  have  never  found 
to  differ  in  any  respect  that  was  of  the  slightest  importance  ; 
and  therefore  with  such  persons,  however  called,  I  can 
always  communicate  advantageously. 

"  Sincerely  your  friend, 

"J.  D.  GODMAN." 

His  strong  and  practical  views  of  the  authenticity  of 
Christianity  are  clearly  exhibited  in  the  following  extract 
which  he  wrote  not  lonor  before  his  death. 


'& 


"■  Is  proof  wanting,  that  these  gospels  are  true  ?  It  is 
only  necessary  for  an  honest  mind  to  read  them  candidly  to 
be  convinced.  Every  occurrence  is  stated  clearly,  simply, 
and  unostentatiously.  The  narrations  are  not  supported  by 
asseverations  of  their  truth,  nor  by  parade  of  witnesses  :  the 
circumstances  described  took  place  in  presence  of  vast  multi- 


16  MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN. 

tudes,  and  are  told  in  that  downright,  unpretending  manner 
which  would  have  called  forth  innumerable  positive  contra- 
dictions, had  they  been  untrue.  Mysteries  are  stated  without 
attempt  at  explanation,  because  explanation  is  not  necessary 
to  establish  the  existence  of  facts,  however  mysterious.  Mir- 
acles also,  attested  by  the  presence  of  vast  numbers,  are 
stated  in  the  plainest  language  of  narration,  in  which  the 
slightest  working  of  imagination  cannot  be  traced.  This 
very  simplicity,  this  unaffected  sincerity  and  quiet  affirma- 
tion, have  more  force  than  a  thousand  witnesses — more  effi- 
cacy than  volumes  of  ambitious  effort  to  support  truth  by 
dint  of  argumentation. 

*'  What  motive  could  the  evangelist  have  to  falsify  ? 
The  Christian  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world,  nor  in  it. 
Christianity  teaches  disregard  of  its  vanities,  depreciates 
its  honors  and  enjoyments,  and  sternly  declares,  that  none 
can  be  Christians  but  those  who  escape  from  its  vices  and 
allurements.  There  is  no  call  directed  to  ambition — no 
gratification  proposed  to  vanity ;  the  sacrifice  of  self — the 
denial  of  all  the  propensities  which  relate  to  the  gratification 
of  passion  or  pride,  with  the  most  humble  dependence  upon 
God,  are  invariably  taught,  and  most  solemnly  enjoined, 
under  penalty  of  the  most  awful  consequences.  Is  it  then 
wonderful  that  such  a  system  should  find  revilers  ?  Is  it 
surprising  that  sceptics  should  abound,  when  the  slightest 
allowance  of  belief  would  force  them  to  condemn  all  their 
actions  ?  Or  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  a  purity  of  life 
and  conversation  so  repugnant  to  human  passions,  and  a 
humility  so  offensive  to  human  pride,  should  be  opposed, 
rejected,  and  contemned  ?  Such  is  the  true  secret  of  the 
opposition  to  religion — such  the  cause  inducing  men  who 
lead  unchristian  lives  to  array  the  frailties,  errors,  weakness, 
and  vices  of  individuals,  or  sects,  against  Christianity,  hop- 
ing to  weaken  or  destroy  the  system  by  rendering  ridiculous 
or  contemptible  those  who  profess  to  be  governed  by  its 


MEMOIR  OF  DR.GODMAN.  17 

influence,  though  flieh'  conduct  shows  them  to  be  acting 
under  an  opposite  spirit. 

"  What  is  the  mode  in  which  tliis  most  extraordinary- 
doctrine  of  Christianity  is  to  be  diffused  ?  By  force — tem- 
poral power — temporal  rewards — earthly  triumphs  ?  None 
of  these.  By  earnest  persuasion,  gentle  entreaty,  brotherly 
monition,  paternal  remonstrance.  The  dread  resort  of 
threatened  punishment  comes  last — exhibited  in  sorrow, 
not  in  anger ;  told  as  a  fearful  truth,  not  denounced  with 
vindictive  exultation ;  while,  to  the  last  moment,  the  beamy 
shield  of  mercy  is  ready  to  be  interposed  for  the  saving  of 
the  endangered. 

"  Human  doctrines  are  wavering  and  mutable ;  the  doc- 
trines of  the  blessed  and  adorable  Jesus,  our  Saviour,  are 
fixed  and  immutable.  The  traditions  of  men  are  dissimilar 
and  inconsistent ;  the  declarations  of  the  Gospel  are  harmo- 
nious, not  only  with  each  other,  but  with  the  acknowledged 
attributes  of  the  Deity,  and  the  well-known  condition  of 
human  nature. 

"  What  do  sceptics  propose  to  give  us  in  exchange  for 
this  system  of  Christianity,  with  its  '  hidden  mysteries,' 
'miracles,'  'signs  and  wonders?'  Doubt,  confusion,  obscu- 
rity, annihilation.  Life,  without  higher  motive  than  selfish- 
ness ;  death — Avithout  hope.  Is  it  for  this  that  their  zeal 
is  so  warmly  displayed  in  proselyting  ?  Is  such  the  gain 
to  accrue  for  the  relinquishment  of  our  souls  ?  In  very 
deed,  this  is  the  utmost  they  have  to  propose,  and  we  can 
only  account  for  their  rancorous  efforts  to  render  others 
like  themselves,  by  reflecting  that  misery  loves  company." 

In  the  last  letter  which  I  ever  received  from  him,  he 
observes,  "  My  time  is  so  exceedingly  occupied  by  the  lit- 
erary business  I  am  engaged  in,  that  it  is  with  great  diffi- 
culty that  I  can  attend  to  any  other  affairs.  However,  I 
have  always  intended  to  leave  behind  me  the  sort  of  mem- 


18  MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN. 

oranda  you  wish  for,  which  my  friends'  may  use  at  their 
discretion.  I  have  to-day,  as  above  mentioned,  concluded 
one  book,  which  leaves  me  at  liberty  to  write  some  long-de- 
ferred letters.  To-morrow  I  must  resume  my  pen  to  com- 
plete some  articles  of  zoology  for  the  Encyclopaedia  Amer- 
icana, now  preparing  in  Boston.  It  shall  be  my  constant 
endeavor  to  husband  my  strength  to  the  last ;  and  by  doing 
as  much  as  is  consistent  with  safety,  for  the  good  of  my 
fellow- creatures,  endeavor  to  discharge  a  mite  of  the  im- 
mense debt  I  owe  for  the  never-failing  bounties  of  Provi- 
dence." 

He  did  husband  his  strength,  and  toiled  with  his  pen 
almost  to  the  last  hours  of  his  life ;  and  by  thus  doing,  has 
furnished  us  with  a  singular  evidence  of  the  possibility  of 
unitinof  the  hicrhest  attainments  in  science,  and  the  most 
ardent  devotion  to  letters,  with  the  firmest  belief  and  the 
purest  practice  of  the  Christian.  But  the  period  of  his 
dissolution  was  not  distant :  the  summons  arrived  ;  and 
conscious  that  the  messenger  who  had  been  long  in  waiting- 
could  not  be  bribed  to  tarry,  he  commended  his  little  fam- 
ily in  a  fervent  prayer  to  Him  who  has  promised  to  be  the 
"  Father  of  the  fatherless,  and  the  widow's  God ;"  and  then 
with  uplifted  eyes  and  hands,  and  a  face  beaming  with  joy 
and  confidence,  resigned  his  spirit  into  the  arms  of  his  Re- 
deemer, on  the  morning  of  the  lYth  of  April,  1830,  aged 
thirty-two  years. 

A  friend  who  was  his  constant  companion  during  his 
sickness,  and  witnessed  his  last  moments,  writes  me  thus : 

**  You  ask  me  to  give  you  an  account  of  his  last  mo- 
ments :  they  were  such  as  have  robbed  me  of  all  terror  of 
death,  and  will  afford  me  lasting  comfort  through  life.  The 
same  self-composure  and  entire  resignation  which  were  so 
remarkable  through  his  whole  sickness,  supported  him  to 


MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN.  19 

the  end.  0,  it  was  not  death — it  was  a  release  from  moi'tal 
misery  to  everlasting  happiness.  Such  calmness  when  he 
prayed  for  us  all — such  a  heavenly  composure,  even  till  the 
breath  left  him,  you  would  have  thought  he  Avas  going  only 
a  short  journey.  During  the  day  his  sufferings  had  been 
almost  beyond  enduring.  Frequently  did  he  pray  that  the 
Lord  would  give  him  patience  to  endure  all  till  the  end, 
knowing  that  it  could  not  be  many  hours ;  and  truly  his 
prayers  were  heard.  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  soul,  were 
the  last  words  he  uttered,  and  his  countenance  appeared  as 
if  he  had  a  foretaste  of  heaven  even  before  his  spirit  left 
this  world." 

I  might  enlarge,  but  I  forbear.  Allow  me  only  to  add, 
that  there  are  those  who  feel  that  in  the  death  of  Dr.  God- 
man  the  strongest  ties  of  nature  are  torn  asunder.  While 
we  mingle  our  sighs  with  theirs,  let  us  delight  to  dwell  upon 
those  traits,  and  emulate  those  virtues,  which  we  admired 
while  he  lived,  and  which  death  can  never  efface  from  the 
memory. 


TRIBUTE  FROM  ROBERT  WALSH,  ESQ. 

"The  tributes  which  have  been  paid  to  the  late  Dr. 
Godman,  were  especially  due  to  the  memory  of  a  man  so 
variously  gifted  by  nature,  and  so  nobly  distinguished  by 
industry  and  zeal  in  the  acquisition  and  advancement  of 
science.  He  did  not  enj^oy  early  opportunities  of  self-im- 
provement, but  he  cultivated  his  talents,  as  he  approached 
manhood,  with  a  degree  of  ardor  and  success  which  sup- 
plied all  deficiencies  ;  and  he  finally  became  one  of  the  most 
accomplished  general  scholars  and  linguists,  acute  and  eru- 
dite naturalists,  ready,  pleasing,  and  instructive  lecturers 
and  writers  of  his  country  and  era.  The  principal  subject 
of  his  study  was  anatomy  in  its  main  branches,  in  which  he 


20  MEMOIR  OF  DR.  GODMAN. 

excelled  in  every  respect.  His  attention  was  much  directed 
also  to  physiology,  pathology,  and  natural  history ;  with  an 
aptitude  and  efficiency  abundantly  proved  by  the  merits  of 
his  published  works,  which  we  need  not  enumerate. 

"  We  do  not  now  recollect  to  have  known  any  individ- 
ual who  inspired  us  with  more  respect  for  his  intellect  and 
heart  than  Dr.  Godman ;  to  whom  knowledge  and  discov- 
ery  appeared  more  abstractly  precious ;  whose  eye  shed 
more  of  the  lustre  of  generous  and  enlightened  enthusiasm  ; 
whose  heart  remained  more  vivid  and  sympathetic  amidst 
professional  labor  and  responsibility  always  extremely  se- 
vere and  urgent.  Considering  the  decline  of  his  health  for 
a  long  period,  and  the  pressure  of  adverse  circumstances, 
which  he  too  frequently  experienced,  he  performed  prodigies 
as  a  student,  an  author,  and  a  teacher — he  prosecuted  ex- 
tensive and  diversified  researches ;  composed  superior  dis- 
quisitions and  reviews,  and  large  and  valuable  volumes  ;  and 
in  the  great  number  of  topics  which  he  handled  simultane- 
ously, or  in  immediate  succession,  he  touched  none  without 
doing  himself  credit,  and  producing  some  new  development 
of  light. 

"  He  lingered  for  years  under  consumption  of  the  lungs  ; 
understood  fully  the  incurableness  of  his  melancholy  state ; 
spoke  and  acted  with  an  unfeigned  and  beautiful  resigna- 
tion ;  toiled  at  his  desk  to  the  last  day  of  his  thirty-two 
years,  still  glowing  with  the  love  of  science  and  the  domes- 
tic affections." 


IVo.  371. 

THE 

SINNER   HIS   OWN   DESTROYER. 


Many  think  that  if  they  could  be  sure  there  is  no  place 
of  future  punishment,  they  should  not  be  afraid  to  die.  The 
word  Hell,  which  they  find  in  the  Bible,  troubles  them ; 
and  the  awful  descriptions,  drawn  by  the  pen  of  inspiration, 
make  eternity  dreadful.  They  cannot  look  forward  to  the 
judgment  without  distressing  apprehensions  that  they  must 
be  condemned.  If  they  could  tear  from  the  Bible  the  25tli 
chapter  of  Matthew,  and  erase  all  the  passages  Avhich 
threaten  the  wrath  of  God,  and  describe  the  eternal  condi- 
tion of  the  wicked  as  one  of  "torment,"  "the  smoke  of 
which  ascendeth  up  for  ever  ;"  of  pain  and  anguish,  "  where 
their  worm  dieth  not,  and  the  fire  is  not  quenched  ;"  and 
of  "everlasting  punishment,"  "prepared  for  the  devil  and 
his  angels;"  their  fears  would  be  quieted,  and  they  would 
look  upon  death  only  as  the  termination  of  this  earthly 
scene. 

To  such  it  is  proper  to  remark,  that  the  wish  to 
change  God's  word,  even  in  one  jot  or  tittle,  is  utterly  vain. 
As  well  might  you  stop  the  motion  of  the  earth,  or  pluck 
down  the  stars  from  heaven.  The  same  hand  that  formed 
them  erected  the  prison-house  of  hell,  and  wrote  the  law  ; 
and  "it  is  easier  for  heaven  and  earth  to  pass,  than  one 
tittle  of  the  law  to  fail."     Luke  16  :  17. 

But  even  if  you  could  blot  from  the  Bible  every  line 
that  excites  your  fears,  or  satisfy  yourself  that  its  threat- 
enings  all  relate  merely  to  the  sufferings  of  the  present 
life ;  if  you  could  prove  that  there  really  will  be  no  sen- 
tence of  condemnation  from  the  throne  of  God — that  there 
is  no  hell  for  his  enemies,  or  evil  spirits  to  torment  them, 
would  you  be  sure  of  hap2nness  ?  The  declaration  of  our 
Maker  would  still  stand  in  all  its  force:  "There  is  no  peace 
to  the  wicked."  This  he  uttered,  not  as  a  judicial  sentence 
against  individual  offenders,  but  as  the  fact,  founded  in  the 
very  constitution  of  man,  that  sin  destroys  his  hapinness. 

DeatJi  makes  no  clianye  in  the  moral  character.  It  dis- 
engages the  soul  from  the  trammels  of  the  body,  and  gives 
VOL.  X.  14 


2  THE  SINNER  HIS  OWN  DESTROYER. 

expansion  to  its  powers ;  but  he  that  was  "  unjust"  will 
be  "unjust  still,"  and  he  that  was  ''filthy"  will  be  "filthy 
still,"  though  removed  from  earth  to  the  world  of  spirits. 
The  passage  through  the  dark  valley  is  but  a  single  step, 
and  in  its  agony  and  gloom  there  is  no  such,  mighty  effi- 
cacy as  to  convert  a  hardened  sinner  into  a  saint ;  a  work 
which  the  Almighty  Spirit  alone  can  accomplish.  Nor  will 
death  divest  the  soul  of  any  of  its  passions  and  propensities. 
Those  which  belong  to  the  body,  Avill  of  course  accompany 
it  to  the  silence  of  the  grave;  but  all  that  belong  to  the 
soul,  as  anger,  malice,  revenge,  will  not  only  be  retained  in 
the  disembodied  state,  but  acquire  greater  capacity  and 
power  for  action. 

In  this  world  a  man's  happiness  depeiids  chiefly  upon 
the  state  of  his  7nind.  Wealth,  honor,  friends,  and  every 
external  good  may  be  possessed,  and  yet  the  man  be 
wretched ;  or  he  may  be  poor,  and  afflicted,  and  despised, 
and  yet  be  happy,  because  his  mind  is  tranquil  and  con- 
tented. If  the  emotions  of  our  hearts  conform  to  the  stand- 
ard of  the  Bible,  nothing  can  make  us  miserable ;  but  if 
unholy  passions  reign,  they  destroy  our  happiness,  what- 
ever else  may  promote  it.  And  as  all  the  passions  of  the 
soul  accompany  it  into  the  other  world,  and  form  a  part  of 
its  very  being,  they  will  tliere  have  the  same  influence  upon 
our  happiness  as  here  ;  and  if  evil  passions  predominate, 
they  will  utterly  destroy  it.     Consider  the  influence  of, 

1.  Disappointment.  You  expect  to  be  admitted  to 
heaven  and  participate  its  bliss.  But  if  there  were  no  day 
of  judgment  and  no  hell,  would  you  be  sure  of  heaven? 
None  but  holy  beings  are  there,  and  you  are  not  holy. 
This  you  now  confess,  and  then  you  will  feel  the  dread 
reality.  If  no  voice  forbade  your  entrance,  and  no  flaming 
sword  enforced  the  prohibition,  you  would  of  your  own 
choice  retire,  when  you  learned  that  no  kindred  spirits  are 
there;  that  pot  one  unsanctified  sinner  is  found  in  all  its 
mansions  ;  and  that  not  a  soul  in  heaven  would  receive  you 
as  a  companion,  or  admit  you  to  share  in  his  employments 
and  pleasures. 

Your  oivn  aversioji  to  the  service  of  God  and  the  spirit- 
ual and  holy  exercises  of  divine  worship,  would  quicken 
your  determination  to  withdraw  from  a  place  where  you 
would  be  neither  welcome  nor  happy  ;   and  thus  you  would 


THE  SINNER  HIS  OWN  DESTROYER.  3 

take  an  everlasting  farewell  of  the  paradise  of  God,  and  of 
all  your  former  hopes.  Though  they  were  built  upon  the 
sand,  you  expected  by  some  means  they  would  be  realized, 
and  that  ''glory,"  and  "honor,"  and  "  eternal  life"  would 
be  yours.  But  the  morning  of  eternity  blasts  all  your  ex- 
pectations. Heaven  is  not  yours  !  You  have  lost  it !  Its 
*'joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory"  fills  the  ever-expand- 
ing souls  of  the  saints,  but  not  a  ray  of  it  can  reach  your 
dark  spirit.  Things  which  ''eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  nor  have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man,"  await 
them ;  but  your  eye  can  never  behold  those  glories ;  your 
ear  can  never  enjoy  those  celestial  melodies;  your  heart 
can  never  understand  those  wonderful  mysteries  of  divine 
knowledge,  nor  feel  the  elevating  influences  of  that  society 
of  saints  and  angels,  seraphim  and  cherubim,  and  "Him 
that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  the  Lamb !"  Those  pleas- 
ures you  can  never,  never  enjoy.  As  long  as  you  exist, 
this  reflection  will  be  your  companion :  Heaven  was  once 
within  my  reach,  and  I  turned  awaij  and  lost  it.  There 
too  will  be, 

2.  Envy.  Have  you  ever  felt  this  passion  ?  When 
you  have  seen  your  neighbor  more  prosperous  and  happy 
than  yourself,  have  you  disliked  him  and  regarded  him  with 
suspicion  ?  Would  it  have  given  you  satisfaction  to  see  his 
good  fortune  reversed,  and  himself  brought  down  to  a  level 
with  you?  As  often  as  you  met  him,  envy  was  excited 
and  your  peace  disturbed.  The  mention  of  his  name  would 
raise  a  storm  in  your  breast,  and  the  recollection  of  his 
prosperity  intrude  upon  your  sleeping  hours.  Whenever 
you  thought  of  him  you  were  miserable. 

This  passion  is  not  often  felt  here  so  keenly  as  some 
others,  for  pride  persuades  us  that  though  our  neighbor 
may  be  superior  in  some  respects,  we  surpass  him  in  oth- 
ers ;  but  in  the  spiritual  state  it  will  be  fully  developed. 
You  will  then  contrast  the  condition  of  the  saints  in  glory 
with  your  own.  Once,  you  and  they  lived  in  the  same 
neighborhood,  met  in  the  same  social  circle,  and  assembled 
in  the  same  place  of  worship.  Now,  they  have  taken  pos- 
session of  "an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  that 
fadeth  not  away;"  they  are  clothed  in  robes  of  white,  with 
"  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads,"  and  the  smiles  of  God's 
countenance  pour  an  enduring  flood  of  delight  upon  their 


4  THE  SINNER  HIS  OWN  DESTROYER. 

enraptured  spirits !  But  where  are  you  ?  A  voluntary 
exile  from  heaven  ;  poor  and  forlorn  ;  a  Avanderer  from  the 
abodes  of  bliss  ;  having  no  capacity  for  the  enjoyment  of 
paradise,  and  no  means  of  ever  acquiring  it.  And  as  you 
advance  in  eternity,  and  appreciate  more  and  more  the 
treasures  they  have  gained  and  you  have  lost,  will  you  not 
envy  them  more  and  more,  and  consequently  be  more  and 
more  wretched  ?     The  reflection  will  be 

"   like  a  wave  of  wormwood  o'er  the  soul 

Rolling  its  bitterness." 

3.  Revenge  will  also  be  enkindled  there.  You  have 
seen  a  man  under  the  influence  of  this  passion.  He  had 
received  an  injury,  and  he  was  determined  on  revenge. 
His  face  was  pale,  his  frame  trembled,  and  his  eye  beamed 
fire.  His  soul  was  lacerated  and  agonized.  An  angry 
man  is  wretched  ;  but  revenge  tears  the  heart,  as  with  a 
hundred  barbed  arrows.  And  when  the  first  paroxysm 
has  subsided,  and  given  place  to  the  meditated  means  of 
vengeance,  peace  is  banished,  and  every  gentle  and  virtuous 
affection  driven  from  the  heart. 

Let  this  passion  take  complete  possession  of  one's  soul, 
and  reign  without  restraint,  and  he  will  need  no  hell  to  ren- 
der him  miserable.  It  will  be  a  fire  in  his  bosom  and  a 
gnawing  worm  upon  his  vitals.  How  then  will  it  rage  in 
the  outcast  from  heaven  !  He  will  meet  those  who  have 
influenced  him  to  reject  Christ,  and  led  him  in  the  hroad 
road.  But  for  their  evil  example,  or  persuasions,  or  ridi- 
cule, he  would  have  become  a  Christian,  and  an  heir  of 
God.  They  cast  from  him  the  "pearl  of  great  price"  he 
was  about  to  purchase,  and  dashed  from  his  hand  the  cup 
of  divine  mercy  he  was  about  to  receive.  They  cheated 
him  out  of  heaven,  while  they  seemed  to  be  his  friends ; 
and  under  pretence  of  ministering  to  his  pleasures,  led  him 
in  the  paths  of  sin,  until  every  prospect  of  peace  and  hap- 
piness was  for  ever  blasted.  Will  he  not  hate  the  authors 
of  his  irreparable  loss  ?  Will  he  not  reproach  them,  and 
endeavor  to  aoforavate  their  wretchedness  in  retaliation  for 
his  own  ?  As  Voltaire  lay  on  his  dying  bed,  aware  of  the 
everlasting  ruin  that  awaited  him,  and  surrounded  by  his 
companions  in  infidelity,  he  would  often  curse  them,  and 


THE  SINNER  HIS  OWN  DESTROYER.  5 

exclaim,  ** Retire!  It  is  you  that  have  brought  me  to  my 
present  state."     There  also  will  be, 

4.  Remorse.  While  he  casts  the  blame  of  his  eternal 
ruin  upon  others,  and  his  heart  burns  with  enmity,  he  will 
be  tortured  with  the  reflection  that  they  had  no  power  to 
compel  him  to  sin.  He  did  it  voluntarily.  Their  course 
Avas  agreeable  to  his  inclinations.  He  preferred  it  to  the 
narrow  way  of  piety.  When  they  interposed  to  banish  his 
seriousness  and  dispel  his  religious  impressions,  he  made  no 
resistance ;  he  readily  dismissed  the  Holy  Spirit  till  a  con- 
venient season,  and  yielded  himself  to  their  baneful  influen- 
ces. Conscience  will  make  him  feel  this.  He  may  blind, 
and  stifle,  and  sear  his  conscience  now ;  but  then  it  will  rise 
with  giant  might,  and  reproach  him  with  all  his  sins.  It 
will  bring  to  his  recollection  all  his  past  offences,  and  show 
him  how  each  one  contributed  to  corrupt  his  soul  and  dis- 
qualify him  for  heaven.  It  will  array  before  him  the  many 
invitations  of  divine  mercy,  and  favorable  opportunities  for 
repentance  off"ered  to  him,  and  rejected.  It  will  present  to 
his  view  those  points  of  his  life,  when  he  was  "  not  far  from 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  and  show  him  the  fatal  step  which 
turned  him  away.  It  will  call  up  the  remembrance  of  the 
many  kind  but  unavailing  prayers  and  eff'orts  of  pious 
friends ;  and  that  solemn  and  awful  scene  when  the  Spirit 
of  God  was  present  with  him,  and  being  grieved  and  re- 
sisted, departed  for  ever. 

Conscience  will  make  him  feel  that  his  exclusion  from 
heaven  is  his  own  ivork  ;  that  it  is  the  necessary  conse- 
quence of  the  life  he  chose  to  live  ;  that  whatever  anguish 
he  bears,  and  whatever  bliss  he  has  lost,  all,  all  is  produced 
by  sin ;  as  naturally  as  pain  is  produced  by  wounds,  or  hun- 
ger by  abstinence.  He  will  see  that  he  has  been  his  oivn 
destroyer  ;  that  his  own  folly  rendered  the  provisions  of 
infinite  mercy  unavailing  ;  that  he  bartered  an  inheritance 
of  endless  felicity  for  ''a  dream"  of  happiness ;  that  he 
''sold  his  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage."  He  will  look 
upon  himself  as  his  worst  enemy ;  and  feel,  while  he  expe- 
riences the  pangs  of  "  the  second  death,"  that  his  own  hand 
inflicted  the  fatal  wound.  He  will  see  how  stupid  and  fool- 
ish he  has  been  ;  how  treacherous  to  his  best  interests  ; 
how  unworthy  to  have  had  the  keeping  of  an  immortal 
soul !  He  will  be  ashamed  of  himself  and  of  his  whole 
VOL.  X.  14* 


6  THE  SINNER  HIS  OWN  DESTROYER. 

life,  liate  himself,  abhor  his  very  being,  curse  the  day 
that  he  Avas  born,  and  call  on  annihilation  to  hide  him  from 
himself  and  his  misery. 

But  there  he  is — an  outcast  from  heaven — hopelessly 
disappointed — burning  with  envy  towards  its  happy  inhab- 
itants, and  with  malice  and  revenge  towards  his  compan- 
ions in  exile — and  oppressed  and  buffeted  by  most  mortify- 
ing and  agonizing  reflections  of  his  own  sad  follies  and  fatal 
errors ! 

Where  will  he  find  relief?  He  cannot  now  resort  to 
the  business  and  pleasures  of  the  world  to  divert  his 
thoughts.  Will  he  try  to  amuse  himself  by  recalling  his 
past  history  ?  Every  period  of  it  will  afford  food  for  re- 
morse and  self-abasement.  Will  he  go  to  his  companions 
in  exile  ?  "  Miserable  comforters"  he  finds  them  all. 
Will  he  look  for  the  return  of  night  to  bring  sleep  and  for- 
getfulness  ?  Alas,  there  is  neither  day  nor  night  there  : 
and  the  disembodied  soul  neither  slumbers  nor  sleeps. 
Will  lie,  after  having  been  long  tossed  on  the  billows  of  his 
tempestuous  passions,  cast  his  eye  once  more  towards  the 
heaven  of  holy  rest,  and  implore  compassion  from  him 
whose  name  is  Love  ?  What  could  He  do  for  him  ?  If  he 
admit  him  to  heaven,  he  must  banish  saints  and  angels,  for 
he  and  they  cannot  dwell  together.  And  if  he  were  there, 
all  its  joys  would  be  insipid,  and  all  its  pleasures  disgusting. 
Must  He  give  his  only  Son  again  to  die  ?  The  same  feel- 
ings that  led  him  to  reject  the  salvation  of  Christ  when 
offered,  still  reign  in  his  soul,  and  would  lead  him  again  to 
reject  it.  Is  not  his  case,  then,  utterly  hopeless,  and  his 
condition  completely  miserable  ?     Now  comes, 

5.  Despair.  Once  there  might  have  been  hope  of  alle- 
viation, but  now  the  last  remnant  of  it  is  scattered  and 
destroyed.  There  is  no  eye  to  pity,  and  no  arm  to  bring 
deliverance.  Despair  spreads  its  dark  wings  over  the  soul, 
and  fastens  its  poisonous  talons  upon  the  vitals.  Who  can 
tell  its  dismal  power  ?  Who  can  describe  its  blasting, 
withering,  sickening  influences  ?  Of  all  the  feelings  of  the 
heart,  this  is  the  most  dreadful.  Its  unfortunate  victims 
are  miserable — supremely  and  completely  miserable. 

This,  my  impenitent  friend,  Avill  be  your  constant  attend- 
ant if  you  die  in  your  sins.  You  may  think  that  I  have 
exaggerated  the  sufferings  to  be  expected  from  the  other 


THE  SINNER  HIS  OWN  DESTROYER.  7 

sources  I  have  mentioned,  though  I  am  confident  the  half 
has  vot  been  told  ;  but  who  can  exaggerate  the  wretched- 
ness of  despair?  I  leave  you  to  form  your  own  estimate 
of  it,  and  doubt  not,  whatever  that  may  be,  it  will  fill  you 
with  horror  and  dismay  to  look  at  it  one  half  hour,  under 
the  impression  that  it  is  to  be  your  eternal  portion.  But  I 
must  not  omit, 

6.  The  emotions  w^ith  which  the  ungodly  will  re- 
gard Jehovah.  How  do  you  feel  towards  him  now  ? 
Do  you  love  him,  and  love  his  government  ?  Does  not 
your  heart  sometimes  rise  up  against  his  authority  and 
providence  ?  Do  you  not  feel  disposed  to  murmur  when 
he  sends  adversity  upon  you,  and  prosperity  upon  others  ? 
Do  you  like  to  think  of  his  presence,  and  draw  near  to  him 
in  prayer?  Is  the  thought  pleasant,  that  the  eye  of  God 
is  upon  you  ?  Do  you  desire  to  feel  that  you  are  alone 
with  him,  and  by  meditation  and  prayer  to  obtain  the  most 
enlaro-ed  and  correct  views  of  his  character  and  attributes  ? 

The  same  feelino-s  which  the  knowledo-e  of  his  character 
here  produces,  will  be  excited  in  the  other  world.  There 
you  will  not  be  able  to  banish  Him  from  your  thoughts, 
and  live  as  though  he  were  not  present,  for  you  will  see 
and  feel  that  he  is  everyivhere.  Wherever  you  turn  you 
will  see  him.  Above  and  beneath,  on  the  right  hand  and 
on  the  left,  before  and  behind,  and  even  within  your  very 
soul,  the  Almighty  Spirit  will  be  present.  Wherever  you 
may  be,  God  will  be  there,  in  all  his  majesty  and  glory. 
If  now  you  cannot  endure  the  very  faint  conceptions  of  the 
divine  Being  which  you  have  reluctantly  formed,  if  you 
are  unhappy  when  these  are  brought  to  your  recollection, 
how  will  you  be  able  to  bear  that  full  display  of  his  per- 
fections which  eternity  will  unfold  before  you,  and  which 
will  constantly  fix  your  attention,  notwithstanding  all  your 
efforts  to  prevent  it  ? 

What  is  it  in  Jehovah  that  now  makes  you  wish  to 
avoid  his  presence,  and  renders  you  unhappy  when  you 
reflect  that  his  eye  is  upon  you  ?  Is  it  his  great  power  ? 
You  will  witness  much  more  awful  exhibitions  of  it  when, 
by  his  command,  "the  heavens  shall  be  rolled  together  as 
a  scroll,  and  the  elements  shall  melt  with  fervent  heat." 
Is  it  his  sovereign  authority  over  mankind,  by  which  he 
makes  some  to  rise  and  others  to  fall ;  bestows  his  restrain- 


8  THE  SINNER  HIS  OWN  DESTROYER. 

ing  and  converting  grace  upon  some,  and  leaves  others  to 
reap  the  fruits  of  their  iniquity  ?  If  this  excites  your 
aversion  to  God,  you  will  find  that  aversion  vastly  increased 
in  the  other  world,  as  you  become  more  acquainted  with 
his  plans  and  purposes.  Is  it  because  he  knows  all  your 
actions  and  all  your  thoughts,  while  you  desire  to  conceal 
them  ?  His  knowledge  of  your  character  will  not  be 
bounded  by  the  end  of  time  ;  and  if  you  now  are  ashamed 
of  yourself,  how  much  more  will  you  be  ashamed  when  the 
light  of  eternity  shall  give  you  a  full  view  of  your  moral 
deformity?  Or  is  the  presence  of  God  disagreeable,  be- 
cause you  have  sinned  against  his  holy  law,  and  know  that 
he  is  offended  with  you  ?  In  eternity  you  will  know  much 
more  than  you  can  at  present,  of  the  purity  of  that  law, 
of  the  heinousness  of  violating  it,  and  of  the  anger  of  the 
Almighty.  If  the  transient  thought  of  his  displeasure 
makes  you  unhappy,  how  will  you  feel  when  he  appears 
before  you  continually  *'«  consuming  fire,''^  and  fastens 
upon  you  his  withering  look  of  wrath,  as  much  more  dread- 
ful than  man's,  as  his  power  and  holiness  are  greater  ? 

If  there  ivere  no  day  of  judgment  and  no  hell,  must  you 
not,  continuing  the  enemy  of  God,  be  lost  and  wretched  ? 
You  carry  in  your  own  bosom  the  elements  of  woe ;  and 
the  circumstances  in  which  you  will  be  placed  will  call 
them  into  action.  An}^  one  of  the  feelings  and  passions  we 
have  considered,  will  be  enough  to  make  you  wretched. 
And  what  is  to  hinder  them  all  from  beating,  like  fiery 
waves,  one  after  another,  upon  your  poor  soul,  while  the 
eye  of  the  Almighty,  like  the  southern  sun  at  midday,  in- 
cessantly pours  its  rays  upon  it,  and  you  plead  in  vain  for 
one  drop  of  water  to  cool  your  parched  tongue  ?  *'  There 
IS  NO  PEACE,  saith  my  God,  to  the  wicked." 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


JVo.  373. 

JOY  IN  SORROW, 


OR 


COMFORT  FOR  THE  BEREAVED. 


My  afflicted  Friend — I  come  not  to  deny  your  grief : 
the  cause  of  it  is  a  sore  and  grievous  wound.  Nor  can  I 
pretend  to  comfort  you  by  saying  that  your  grief  will  do 
no  good  :  its  greatest  aggravation  is,  that  no  tears  will  bring- 
back  the  light  of  your  eyes.  Nor  can  I  so  far  forget  your 
woes,  as  merely  to  say  that  sorrow  is  the  common  lot  of 
man.  How  can  it  but  add  to  the  grief  of  a  benevolent  mind, 
to  know  that  others  endure  the  same  ills  ?  Nor  dare  I  de- 
clare your  present  feelings  unreasonable.  There  is,  too,  a 
sacredness  in  your  sorrow,  which  I  would  not  rudely  touch. 
I  therefore  come  not  impertinently  to  meddle  with  another's 
feelings,  or  harass  you  with  vain  words.  Yet  let  me  say  a 
few  things.  They  are  for  your  good.  They  may  prove 
inestimable  blessino-s. 

O 

Your  present  affliction  is  from  God,  the  good,  the  just, 
the  wise,  the  holy.  Your  bereavement  came  not  by  chance, 
nor  from  the  power  of  wicked  men,  or  wicked  angels.  God 
has  not  consigned  the  world  over  to  the  uncontrollable  sway 
of  a  blind  fortuity,  nor  to  the  reign  of  devils.  Look  not 
much  at  the  mere  instruments  of  your  affliction.  To  lament 
that  something  else  ivas  not  done,  when  you  did  all  that  at 
the  time  seemed  proper,  is  to  lament  that  you  have  not  as 
much  knowledge  as  the  prophets  of  God,  or  the  God  of 
prophets. 

Beware  of  spending  time  in  reflection  on  seco7id  causes. 
One  important  end  of  God  in  this  affliction,  is,  to  fix  the 
thouQfhts  on  him.  Defeat  not  this  desio-n  of  love.  Thouoh 
the  Sabeans  and  Chaldeans  took  away  Job's  oxen  and  asses 
and  camels,  and  murdered  his  servants,  yet  he  said  not  a 
word  of  their  wicked  robbery,  but  declared,  "  The  Lord 
hath  taken  away."  Perhaps  a  message  of  deeper  alarm 
never  wrung  a  father's  heart,  than  that  Avhich  Samuel  bore 
to  Eli.  With  one  thought  the  venerable  man  quieted  him- 
self :   "  It  is  the  Lord  :  let  him  do  what  seemeth  him  good." 


2  JOY  IN  SORROW,  OR 

There  are  reasons  for  all  your  affilctlons.  They  are  good 
and  sufficient.  They  satisfy  God.  If  known,  you  would 
see  them'  to  be  such  as  should  satisfy  you. 

In  the  absence  of  the  principal  of  a  grammar-school,  his 
pupils  formed  two  societies  for  mutual  improvement.  Their 
meetings  were  held  in  the  only  commodious  vacant  house 
in  the  village.  A  letter  informed  the  teacher  of  what  had 
been  done.  He  immediately  wrote,  positively  forbidding 
all  further  meetings.  His  order  was  strictly,  though  with 
pain,  obeyed.  It  required  all  his  good  standing  among  his 
devoted  young  friends  to  restrain  them  from  believing  this 
act  tyrannical.  So  painful  was  the  state  of  their  minds, 
that  on  his  return,  all  preferred  a  respectful  request  for 
explanation  of  this  mysterious  conduct.  Reminding  them 
of  his  former  and  known  kindness,  he  inquired  if  that,  united 
with  his  declaration  that  he  had  good  reasons,  Avas  not  suf- 
ficient. They  promptly  expressed  their  confidence  both  in 
his  kindness  and  veracity,  but  said  it  would  relieve  their 
minds  to  know  his  reasons.  "  Then,"  said  he,  *'  I  have 
several.  One  is,  that  a  feAV  days  before  I  left  you,  three 
men,  having  been  secretly  lodged  in  the  house  where  your 
meetings  were  held,  had  died  of  the  smallpox.  Are  you 
satisfied  ?"    All  assented. 

So,  child  of  sorrow,  God  is  trying  you.  He  spoils  your 
plans,  he  crosses  your  wishes,  he  takes  away  your  delights  ; 
but  he  has  good  reasons  for  all  he  does.  Yet  he  frequently 
conceals  the  cause  of  all  these  trials.  He  says,  ''What  I 
do,  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter." 
It  is  both  folly  and  wickedness  to  doubt  his  love  or  his 
wisdom  in  the  mysteries  of  providence. 

Good  may  come  out  of  this  affliction.  You  should  be 
far  more  desirous  of  obtaining  that  good,  than  of  getting 
rid  of  the  evil  under  which  you  suffer.  It  is  not  necessary 
that  your  sorrow  cease.  It  is  necessary  that  it  be  sancti- 
fied. God  has  brought  you  into  the  house  of  mourning, 
that  "by  the  sadness  of  the  countenance,  the  heart  may  be 
made  better."  See  to  it,  that  you  here  gather  some  of  the 
ripe  clusters  of  "the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness." 
Nothing  but  dreadful  unbelief  and  wickedness  can  hinder  this 
affliction  from  beino-  one  of  God's  choice  and  rich  blessings. 

Take  heed  that  you  sin  not.  The  least  sin,  an  unAvorthy 
thought  of  God,  is  a  far  greater  evil  than  all  your  sorrows. 


COMFORT  FOR  THE  BEREAVED.  3 

The  kindest  wish  any  can  now  have  for  you  is,  that  in  all 
your  trials,  you  may  not  sin,  nor  charge  God  foolishly. 
Sin  is  the  greatest  of  all  evils.  Siu  is  your  worst  enemy. 
Hell  is  not  so  terrible.  Sorroiv  may  be  a  friend  :  the  cup  in 
Benjamin's  sack  was  the  forerunner  of  Benjamin's  portion. 
The^^  who  suffer  with  Christ  shall  also  reign  with  him. 

"  The  path  of  sorrow,  and  that  path  alone, 
Leads  to  the  land  where  sorrows  are  unknown." 

God  has  had  on  earth  one  Son  without  sin,  but  never  one 
without  aj^iction.  The  road  to  heaven  is  soaked  with  the 
blood  of  fifty  millions  of  martyrs.  Rivers  of  water  ran 
down  their  eyes.  Yet  they  all,  even  when  on  earth,  re- 
garded sin  as  the  worst  evil  in  the  universe.  0,  avoid  the 
very  appearance  of  evil.  God  has  a  right  to  expect  that 
you  will  now  honor  him.  Do  it,  and  he  will  honor  you.  But 
if  you  now  sin  against  him,  you  shall  be  lightly  esteemed. 

Suffer  not  to  pass  unheeded  the  mercies  which  attend 
this  affliction.  Does  your  heart  faint  under  the  suddenness 
of  the  stroke  ?  Perhaps  nothing  but  a  revelation  from  God, 
attested  by  miracles,  or  severe  and  protracted  sufferings  in 
the  deceased,  could  have  fully  prepared  your  mind  for  it. 
The  former  you  could  not  expect.  The  latter  you  could 
not  wish.  Besides,  God  has  told  you  to  be  always  ready 
for  any  death:  "All  flesh  is  grass."  He  lent  you  your 
beloved  only  to  remain  loith  you  at  his  will.  Let  the  thought 
of  murmuring  be  rebuked  by  the  following  beautiful  story 
from  the  Mishna  of  the  Rabbins. 

During  the  absence  of  the  Rabbi  Meir,  his  two  sons 
died — both  of  them  of  uncommon  beauty,  and  enlightened 
in  the  divine  law.  His  wife  bore  them  to  her  chamber, 
and  laid  them  upon  her  bed.  When  Rabbi  Meir  returned, 
his  first  inquiry  was  for  his  sons.  His  w^ife  reached  to  him 
a  goblet ;  he  praised  the  Lord  at  the  going  out  of  the  Sab- 
bath, drank,  and  again  asked,  ''Where  are  my  sons?" 
"They  are  not  far  off,"  she  said,  placing  food  before  him 
that  he  might  eat.  He  was  in  a  genial  mood,  and  when 
he  had  said  grace  after  meat,  she  thus  addressed  him : 
"  Rabbi,  with  thy  permission,  I  would  fain  propose  to  thee 
one  question."  "Ask  it  then,  my  love,"  replied  he.  "A 
few  days  ago  a  person  intrusted  some  jewels  to  my  custody, 
and  now  he  demands  them  :  should  I  mve  them  back  to 


4  JOY  IN  SORROW. 

him  ?"  "  This  is  a  question,"  said  the  Rabbi,  "  which  my 
wife  should  not  have  thought  it  necessary  to  ask.  What, 
wouldest  thou  hesitate  or  be  reluctant  to  restore  to  every 
one  his  own?"  "No,"  she  replied,  ''but  yet  I  thought  it 
best  not  to  restore  them,  without  acquainting  thee  there- 
with," She  then  led  him  to  the  chamber,  and  stepping  to 
the  bed,  took  the  white  covering  from  the  dead  bodies. 
"Ah,  my  sons,  my  sons,"  loudly  lamented  their  father; 
"my  sons  !  the  light  of  my  eyes,  and  the  light  of  my  un- 
derstanding :  I  was  your  father,  but  you  were  my  teachers 
in  the  law."  The  mother  turned  away  and  wept  bitterly. 
At  length  she  took  her  husband  by  the  hand  and  said, 
"Rabbi,  didst  thou  not  teach  me  that  we  must  not  be  re- 
luctant to  restore  that  which  was  intrusted  to  our  keeping  ? 
See,  '  the  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  awa}^,  and 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord,'  "  "  Blessed  be  the  name 
of  the  Lord,"  echoed  the  Rabbi,  "and  blessed  be  his  holy 
name  for  ever." 

-Besides,  had  you  known  all  you  now  know,  perhaps  you 
could  not  have  done  your  duty  to  the  dear  deceased.  There- 
fore, think  of  the  mercies  attending  this  whole  affliction, 
count  them  up.  It  is  a  mark  of  ah  ignoble  mind  to  pervert 
any  conduct,  especially  that  of  our  best  fi'iend. 

Lastly :  your  present  situation  is  not  without  its  ajypro- 
priate  duties.  Is  any  afflicted,  let  him  pray  ?  Cast  your 
care  upon  God,  for  he  careth  for  you.  Earnestly  inquire 
why  God  has  afflicted  you.  Be  patient.  Be  quiet.  Be 
gentle.  Be  tender-hearted.  Weep  with  those  who  weep. 
Do  your  duty  to  those  who  still  live.  Labor  for  the  salva- 
tion of  souls.  Especiall}^  rely  on  Jesus  Christ  and  his  rich 
grace ;  and  even  you  shall  soon  say,  "It  is  good  for  me 
that  I  have  been  afflicted.  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord.    My  choicest  blessings  flow  from  my  severest  trials." 

"  Therefore  lift  up  the  hands  which  hang  down,  and  the 
feeble  knees."  "  Be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power 
of  his  might."  Flee  to  the  promises.  Make  God  your  ref- 
uge;  and  when  you  "pass  through  the  waters,  he  shall  be 
with  you,  and  through  the  rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow 
you ;  for  Jehovah  is  yovir  God,  and  your  Saviour,  Fear 
not.     He  will  be  with  you." 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


IVo.  373. 

DECLARATIONS  OF  A  DEIST. 

A  NARRATIVE  OF  FACTS. 


BY  REV.   HERMAN  NORTON, 

OF     CINCINNATI. 


On  the  morning  of  January  10,  1837,  a  young  man 
called  at  my  door  and  said  that  Mr.  Isaac  Baker,  residing 
at  the  corner  of  Court  and  Elm  streets,  desired  to  see  me. 
In  about  half  an  hour  I  went  to  the  house,  and  found  him 
on  his  bed.  He  had  been  a  stranger  to  me ;  but  those  who 
knew  him  intimately,  speak  of  him  as  a  gentleman,  upright 
in  his  transactions  with  his  fellow-men,  and  sustaininof  a 
good  moral  character.  I  inquired  how  long  he  had  been 
sick,  and  what  were  his  prospects  of  recovery.  He  said  he 
had  been  sick  three  or  four  weeks,  and  added,  "  I  am  better 
than  I  have  been,  and  expect  to  be  about  again  in  a  few 
days."  This  remark  should  be  observed,  as  it  shows  that 
he  was  not  now  excited  by  the  fear  of  death.  Death,  in 
his  own  view,  was  not  near. 

Then  taking  my  hand,  he  said,  "  There  are  one  or  two 
points,  sir,  on  which  I  have  desired  to  converse ;  therefore 
I  have  sent  for  you.  In  the  first  place,  I  wish  to  know 
what  evidence  there  is  that  there  ever  was  such  a  being  as 
Jesus  Christ  in  this  ivorld.  For  twenty  years  past,  I  have 
advocated  the  belief  that  there  never  was  such  a  being-.  I 
now  wish  to  know  the  truth.  If  there  never  was  such  a 
being  as  Jesus  Christ,  the  Bible  is  not  true ;  and  if  there 
was  such  a  being,  it  is  true.  If  the  question  respecting 
Jesus  Christ  is  settled,  that  decides  many  others,  or  every 
thing  else  in  my  mind." 

His  apparent  sincerity  seemed  to  require  a  candid 
answer.  In  reply,  I  stated  that  we  lived  in  1837,  that  is, 
eighteen  hundred  and  thirty-seven  years  after  the  birth  of 
Christ,  according  to  the  dates  of  all  documents  in  Christian 
countries.     Infidels  as  well  as  Christians  must  admit  the 

V^OL.  X.  15 


2  DECLARATIONS  OF  A  DEIST. 

fact  of  such  a  date.  Now  the  question  arises,  How  came 
this  to  pa«s,  if  there  never  was  such  a  person  ?  How  could 
the  world  be  so  deceived  and  deluded  ? 

A  pause  was  made  for  his  reply,  but  he  was  silent  and 
absorbed  in  deep  thought.  I  then  stated,  that  I  was  that 
morning  reading  a  passage  from  Lucian,  a  Greek  writer  of 
the  second  century,  an  enemy  of  Christianity,  who  speaks 
of  Christians,  and  says  their  Master  was  crucified.  "Per- 
haps God  turned  my  attention  to  that  account,  that  I  might 
speak  of  it  to  you,  although  I  knew  nothing  of  your  sick- 
ness, or  of  your  sentiments." 

He  was  then  referred  to  Celsus  and  many  other  oppo- 
sers  of  Christianity,  Avho  admitted  that  Jesus  Christ  lived 
in  Judea,  and  was  crucified  there,  but  said  he  was  an  im- 
postor. 

The  testimony  of  Infidels  who  have  been  converted  to 
Christianity  was  brought  forward,  and  also  the  dying  testi- 
mony of  some  who  left  the  world  in  unutterable  despair. 

Finally,  I  remarked  that  I  knew  not  how  to  take  the 
other  side  of  the  question,  and  to  prove  there  never  was 
such  a  being  as  Jesus  Christ. 

After  this  there  was  silence  for  several  minutes,  when 
he  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  intense  thought.  Very  soon 
he  said,  ''Do  you  know,  sir,  of  our  bereavement  this  morn- 
ing?" I  replied  that  I  did  not.  "My  eldest  son,"  said 
he,  "  died  this  morning,  and  is  a  corpse  in  the  room  below." 
Some  conversation  followed  on  the  cause  and  design  of 
afflictions,  when  he  requested  me  to  pray. 

After  prayer,  he  said  that  he  desired  to  make  a  decla- 
ration. No  one  understood  what  he  designed  to  do.  The 
curiosity  of  all  present  being  excited,  they  rose  and  ap- 
proached his  bed,  when,  with  the  deepest  solemnity,  he 
expressed  himself  as  follows  : 

"  I  wish  to  make  a  declaration  in  the  presence  of  my 
family  and  of  these  witnesses.  I  now  declare  before  you 
all,  that  I  am  convinced  of  the  error  of  the  sentiments  I 
have  advocated  for  twenty  years  past.  I  believe  there  is 
such  a  being  as  Jesus  Christ.  I  believe  he  is  the  Son  of 
God.  I  believe  he  is  the  only  name  by  which  we  can  be 
saved." 

Referring  to  the  uncertainty  of  life,  although  he  ex- 
pected to  recover,  he  added,  "Whether  I  shall  survive  my 


DECLARATIONS  OF  A  DEIST.  3 

present  sickness  or  not,  such  I  wish  you  to  understand  is 
my  full  belief.  /  re2)ent  of  my  error.  I  wish  you,  sir,  to 
use  this,  my  declaration,  to  comfort  or  strengthen  Christians 
as  you  may  judge  best.  If  there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  one 
sinner  that  repents.  Christians  on  earth  will  rejoice  also.  / 
do  repent.  Such  are  the  sentiments  I  believe,  and  mean  to 
support  and  defend  while  I  live." 

He  made  this  confession  with  such  unaflfected  sincerity, 
so  important  in  his  own  view  was  this  transaction,  that  he 
spoke  as  a  man  who  believed  that  the  eye  of  God  was  upon 
him.  .  Every  eye  filled  with  tears,  and  his  wife  wept  aloud. 
She  afterwards  said  that  she  wept  for  joy.  Mr.  Baker  had 
often  said  that  his  sentiments  would  be  unchanged  in  death, 
and  that  he  was  not  afraid  to  die.  This  had  been  the 
cause  of  her  deepest  grief,  which  at  times  she  feared  would 
sink  her  in  the  grave.  He  was  so  deliberate  and  so  fixed 
in  his  opinions,  that  it  seemed  to  her  he  would  never  be 
shaken.  He  had  never  suffered  religrion  to  be  introduced 
into  his  family.  Up  to  that  very  morning  when  his  child 
died,  no  one  had  been  permitted  to  point  his  dying  son  to 
that  "  Lamb  of  God  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world." 

Calling  the  next  day,  and  inquiring  into  the  state  of  his 
mind,  he  said  he  trusted  in  Jesus  Christ  for  salvation,  and 
added  with  deep  emotion,  "  I  am  thankful  to  God,  that  I 
am  alive  to  offer  my  body  a  living  sacrifice  to  Jesus 
Christ." 

Some  plain  conversation  was  held  with  him  on  the  na- 
ture of  experimental  religion.  He  saw  clearly  the  difference 
between  the  mere  conviction  of  the  understandings  and  feel- 
ing  the  holy  power  of  truth  on  the  heart,  and  appeared  to 
enter  into  the  spirit  of  this  distinction.  How  fatal  is  the 
mistake  of  many  who  think  an  orthodox  head  is  unquestion- 
able evidence  of  an  humble  and  holy  heart. 

On  the  12th  of  January  he  was  apparently  better.  He 
said  he  had  rested  more  during  the  night,  and  thought  he 
should  be  out  of  his  chamber  in  a  few  days.  This  occasion 
was  seized  as  the  most  favorable  yet  presented,  to  converse 
with  him  about  his  future  course.  He  said  he  designed, 
if  God  spared  his  life,  to  devote  it  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ;  and  as  soon  as  he  could,  to  profess  his  faith  in 
Christ  publicly,  that  men  might  know  that  he  was  not 


4  DECLARATIONS  OF  A  DEIST. 

ashamed  of  that  Saviour  he  had  so  long  denied.  This  was 
spoken  not  in  the  rashness  of  self-confidence,  but  appar- 
ently under  a  deep  sense  of  gratitude  and  obligation  to 
Jesus  Christ. 

This  was  the  only  time  I  saw  him  weep.  A  simple 
question  started  the  tears  in  streams.  The  question  was 
this  :  "  Mr.  Baker,  how  do  you  feel  when  you  review  your 
past  life  ?"  Instantly  his  cheeks  were  wet,  he  seized  his 
handkerchief,  shook  his  head,  and  only  said,  "  Very  un- 
pleasantly." 

Remorse  was  too  keen  for  utterance.  His  soul  was 
agonized.  What  must  have  been  the  anguish  of  a  father's 
heart,  who  had  so  often  ridiculed  the  very  existence  of  a 
Saviour  before  his  children,  who  had  robbed  his  family  of 
their  immortal  interests,  and  had  suffered  his  first-born  son 
to  pass  into  eternity  uninstructed  and  unwarned  ? 

The  next  day  Mr.  Baker  sent  for  me,  with  a  message  that 
he  should  not  probably  live  through  the  day.  He  was 
greatly  changed,  and  appeared  to  be  near  the  hour  when 
his  soul  would  be  summoned  to  the  bar  of  God.  He  said 
he  was  not  able  to  converse  much,  but  he  had  expressed 
his  desires  to  Mrs.  Baker,  and  she  would  communicate 
them  to  me.  She  then  said  that  Mr.  Baker  requested,  if 
it  could  be  done,  that  the  LorcVs  supper  might  be  admin- 
istered to  him  before  he  died. 

This  was  to  me  a  startling  request.  I  was  fearful  that 
he  had  wrong  views  of  the  nature  of  this  ordinance,  and 
like  many  others,  might  think,  through  its  influence,  to  ob- 
tain the  pardon  of  sin.  Some  questions  were  proposed  to 
him  for  the  purpose  of  drawing  out  his  views  of  this  insti- 
tution. Immediately  he  drew  my  head  down  and  whis- 
pered in  my  ear,  as  he  was  unable  to  speak  aloud  without 
much  eff"ort  and  pain.  He  said  that  he  regarded  the  Lord's 
supper  simply  as  a  symbol  of  the  Saviour's  sufferings — he 
did  not  think  there  was  any  efficacy  in  it  to  save  from  sin, 
and  that  he  did  not  expect  by  it  to  receive  forgiveness  of 
his  sins,  for  he  trusted  only  in  the  blood  of  Christ  for  sal- 
vation. But  his  reasons  for  desiring  to  receive  this  ordi- 
nance were  as  follows  : 

For  twenty  years  he  had  denied  publicly  that  there 
ever  was  such  a  being  as  Jesus  Christ.  Had  he  lived,  he 
designed  to  have  made  a  public  profession  of  his  faith  in 


DECLARATIONS  OF  A  DEIST.  5 

Dim,  and  thus  undo,  as  far  as  possible,  the  evil  he  had 
done.  But  now  he  was  about  to  die  without  the  privilege 
of  making  a  public  profession  of  religion.  He  therefore 
desired  to  make  as  public  a  manifestation  of  his  faith  in 
Christ  as  he  could  in  his  situation,  and  once  before  he  died, 
if  it  could  consistently  be  done,  to  partake  of  the  Lord's 
supper. 

His  views  were  so  much  in  accordance  with  the  word 
of  God  and  the  experience  of  Christians,  and  his  motives  so 
proper,  that  the  writer  was  not  Avilling  to  assume  the  re- 
sponsibility of  saying  that  he  should  not  partake  the  memo- 
rials of  a  Saviour's  sufferings  before  he  died. 

The  table  of  the  Lord  was  then  spread  in  his  dying 
chamber,  where  he  had  often  denied  the  Saviour.  The 
voice  of  prayer  broke  the  silence  of  that  memorable  hour, 
when  all  felt  that  we  were  at  the  place  where  tAvo  worlds 
meet. 

He  then  gave  his  assent  to  the  essential  articles  of  the 
Christian  faith,  and  for  the  first  and  last  time  received  the 
emblems  of  the  great  sacrifice  for  sin.  This  was  done  with 
the  deepest  solemnity,  and  apparently  under  the  influence 
of  feelings  highly  devotional. 

At  2  P.  M.  I  called  again.  He  was  sinking  rapidly  in 
the  arms  of  death.  You  may  judge  of  the  state  of  his 
mind,  from  the  prompt  answer  to  the  following,  among 
other  questions. 

**Mr.  Baker,  have  you  now  any  fears  of  death?" 

*'  No,  not  any." 

**  How  long  is  it  since  you  began  to  doubt  the  truth  of 
your  sentiments?" 

"  At  times  I  have  doubted  for  many  years." 

*'  Mr.  Baker,  do  you  wish  your  former  associates  and 
friends  to  know  that  you  have  renounced  your  former  sen- 
timents, and  now  die  in  the  full  belief  of  the  declaration 
that  you  have  made?" 

"  Yes,  I  do."     This  was  said  with  much  emphasis. 

"  Did  you  think,  a  few  years  ago,  that  you  should  ever 
believe  and  feel  as  you  now  do  ?" 

"No,  I  did  not." 

*'Is  your  faith  in  Jesus  Christ  now  strong  and  unwa- 
vering?" 

''  Yes,  it  is." 

VOL.  X.  15* 


6  DECLARATIONS  OF  A  DEIST. 

*'  Do  you  feel  willing  to  submit  yourself  wholly  into  the 
hands  of  God,  and  are  you  now  willing  to  die  ?" 

He  bowed  assent,  and  then  said,  "  I  am." 

These  were  the  last  words  I  heard  him  utter. 

At  7  P.  M.  I  was  again  at  his  bedside.  But  no  voice 
disturbed  him.  Nothing  around  attracted  his  attention. 
His  eyes  were  fixed,  looking  upward.  He  breathed  freely. 
All  was  peaceful.  He  fell  asleep  so  gently,  we  knew  not 
the  moment  when  he  ceased  to  breathe. 

In  view  of  this  history,  a  few  thoughts  may  be  sug- 
gested. 

1.  No  confidence  can  be  placed  in  what  is  called  a 
death-bed  rejpentance. 

From  a  number  of  such  instances  which  the  writer  has 
attended,  he  could  not  select  one  in  which  he  has  much  or 
any  confidence.  It  may  not  be  very  extravagant  to  say, 
that  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred,  where  persons 
profess  repentance  in  view  of  death,  but  unexpectedly 
recover,  they  become  worse  than  they  were  before  they 
professed  to  repent. 

Mr.  Baker's  case  was  the  reverse  of  all  this.  He  ex- 
pressed no  anxiety  about  his  salvation  until,  in  his  own  view, 
he  began  to  recover.  If  he  exercised  any  repentance  or 
faith,  it  was  when  death  was  viewed  at  a  distance.  What- 
ever was  the  real  state  of  his  bodily  health,  he  did  not  think 
death  near  until  a  few  hours  before  he  died. 

The  fears  awakened  in  the  prospect  of  immediate  death, 
have  their  origin  in  the  selfishness  of  the  heart,  and  entirely 
overlook  the  character  and  claims  of  God.  The  man  who 
begins  to  repent  only  when  he  thinks  he  can  sin  no  longer 
with  impunity,  will  be  the  first  to  plunge  into  sin  when  he 
believes  the  punishment  he  dreads  is  suspended  for  a  time. 
If  you,  beloved  reader,  are  postponing  the  time  of  repentance, 
you  must  expect  soon  to  be  numbered  with  those  who  repent 
not  of  their  deeds,  but  blaspheme  the  God  of  heaven. 

2.  Christians  should  be  excited  to  lahor  and  in  ay  er  for 
the  salvation  of  scej)tical  men. 

The  unbelief  and  timidity  of  the  church  often  induce 
them  to  think  that  the  case  of  such  men  is  hopeless.  Hence, 
Christians  do  not  pray  for  them,  but  suffer  them  to  go  down 
to  hell  unwarned.     Thus,  doubtless,  many  thought  of  Mr. 


DECLARATIONS  OF  A  DEIST.  7 

Baker.  But  how  rich  the  grace  of  God  appears  in  rescuing 
the  guilty  man  from  infidehty,  and  as  he  beheved,  from 
eternal  death.  How  offensive  to  God  is  it  in  Christians  to 
neglect  the  souls  of  such  men.  Think  of  the  efficacy  of 
atoning  blood,  of  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  of  the 
willingness  of  God  to  hear  prayer,  and  then  tell,  if  you  can, 
the  guilt  of  unbelief.  Have  you  no  reason  to  believe, 
Christian  reader,  that  the  blood  of  an  infidel  friend  or 
neighbor  will  be  found  in  your  skirts  on  that  day  when 
Christians  and  Infidels  "  will  part  to  meet  no  more  ?" 

3.  The  history  of  Mr.  Baker  should  both  reprove  par- 
ents and  encourage  them  to  be  faithful  to  their  children. 
He  had  been  consecrated  to  God  in  parental  faith  and  love, 
and  was  trained,  under  the  rigid  discipline  exercised  in  New 
England  forty  years  since,  by  a  mother  who  publicly  pro- 
fessed her  faith  in  Christ  at  the  early  age  of  seven,  and  was 
a  devoted  Christian  for  half  a  century.  This,  in  connection 
with  the  declaration,  "  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should 
go,  and  when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it,"  fur- 
nished him  an  argument  against  the  Bible.  He  often  re- 
ferred to  this  passage  in  his  course  of  infidelity,  and  brought 
himself  forward  as  evidence  that  it  was  false.  Alluding  to 
his  strictly  religious  education,  he  would  inquire  trium- 
phantly, "Why,  then,  have  I  departed  ?" 

His  frequent  allusions  to  his  strictly  religious  education, 
and  to  the  Scripture  quoted  above,  fully  prove  that  his 
early  impressions  were  not  entirely  erased,  nor  his  early 
instructions  wholly  forgotten.  These  might  have  originated 
those  doubts  that  were  darting  across  his  pathway  of  infi- 
delity, and  were  so  fatal  to  his  peace. 

How  is  it  with  you,  parent  ?  "  Is  it  well  with  thee  ?  Is 
it  well  with  the  child  ?"  Do  your  children  know  that  you 
are  faithful  to  them  ?  Are  they  converted  to  God  ?  Does 
God  approve  of  your  conduct  ? 

Finally,  this  account  appeals  to  the  conscience  of  the 
Deist  and  the  sceptic. 

The  gentleman  whose  history  is  before  you,  said  that 
he  had  "  doubted  for  many  years."  To  others  he  appeared 
to  be  immovably  intrenched  in  deism.  But  they  knew  noth- 
ing of  the  fearful  doubts  which  were  waging  an  intestine 
and  perpetual  war  against  the  bulwarks  of  infidelity  that 
he  had  thrown  around  him. 


8  DECLARATIONS  OF  A  DEIST. 

How  is  it  with  you,  sceptical  reader?  Have  you  no 
doubts  about  your  sentiments  ?  Is  your  mind  at  rest,  both 
day  and  night  ?  Do  you  hear  from  within  no  whispers  of 
alarm — no  forebodings  of  trouble  yet  to  come  ? 

Whence  did  you  learn  that  the  Bible  is  false,  and  Jesus 
Christ  an  impostor  ?  Did  you  from  the  death-bed  of  the 
Deist,  or  of  the  Christian — from  the  despair  and  horror  of 
tlie  one,  or  from  the  joy  and  triumph  of  the  other  ?  Are 
you  CERTAIN  that  the  Bible  is  false?  If  you  are  not,  beware. 
If  it  is  not  false,  the  certainty  of  your  eternal  perdition  as 
a  sceptic,  is  as  unquestionable  as  your  existence.  Only 
lodge  the  thought  in  your  heart  that  you  may  be  on  a  false 
foundation,  and  then  judge  for  yourself  of  the  prospect 
before  you. 

Perhaps  another  reader  respects  the  Bible,  and  says  he 
believes  it,  but  is  unconcerned.  Have  you  no  fears  about 
your  salvation  ?  Are  your  nerves  firm  when  you  look  up- 
ward to  the  judgment-seat  ?  Do  you  desire  to  depart  from 
this  world  of  sin,  to  be  with  Christ ;  or  do  you  tremble 
when  you  think  of  the  hour  of  departure  ?  Remember, 
my  dear  friend,  ''  the  fear  of  the  wicked,  it  shall  come  upon 
him." 

Fly,  then,  from  these  fears — instantly  fly  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  He  only  can  save  you.  But  if  you  will  not 
repent,  and  believe  in  Christ,  then  sit  down  and  weep,  and 
forget  not  your  eternal  inheritance :  "  The  fearful  and  unbe- 
lieving," says  the  immortal  God,  "  shall  have  their  part  in 
the  lake  which  burnetii  with  fire  and  brimstone,  which  is 
the  second  death." 


PUBLISHED    BY   THE    AMERICAN   TBACT    SOCIETY. 


IVo.  374. 

SHORT    METHOD 
WITH    THE    SCEPTIC. 


By  sceptics  is  intended  all  those,  of  every  name,  who 
reject  the  essential  doctrines  of  Christianity :  as  the  exist- 
ence of  one  infinitely  perfect  Creator  and  Moral  Governor 
of  the  universe ;  the  divine  original  of  the  Christian  Scrip- 
tures ;  salvation  by  atoning  blood  which  they  reveal ;  the 
immortality  of  the  soul ;  the  necessity  of  holiness  of  heart 
and  life,  and  future  eternal  rewards  and  punishments.  An 
exposition  of  the  causes  of  scepticism  would  doubtless  be  a 
sufficient  answer  to  most  of  the  reasonings  by  which  it  is 
defended ;  but  there  are  men  who  have  been  drawn  into 
scepticism  by  the  pressure  of  unhappy  influences,  who 
would  be  glad  to  know,  that  they  may  obey,  the  truth ; 
and  who,  finding  every  scheme  unsatisfying  at  the  present, 
and  gloomy  in  the  prospect,  would  be  glad  to  see  solid  evi- 
dence of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  if  it  exists,  that  they 
may  calmly  and  peacefully  repose  their  all  upon  its  blessed 
promises.     Let  such  consider  the  following  propositions. 

Proposition  I.  It  is  greatly  to  be  desired  that  there 
should  be  a  righteous  Moral  Governor,  of  infinite  wisdom, 
power,  and  goodness,  to  control  the  affairs  of  this  world, 
and  that  he  should  vouchsafe  to  men  a  revelation,  explaining 
their  destiny  and  their  duty. 

It  is  not  seen  how  any  serious  mind  can  affirm  against 
this  proposition.  The  history  of  our  world  shows  that  men 
will  have  some  kind  of  religion,  and  will  worship  some  sort 


2  SHORT  METHOD  WITH  THE  SCEPTIC. 

of  deities.  Where  a  God  of  holiness  is  not  known,  loath- 
some and  ferocious  objects  have  been  deified  ;  and  the  human 
mind  has  uniformly  sunk  under  tyranny,  superstition,  and 
most  debasing  vice.  The  wisest  of  ancient  philosophers 
taught  that  a  revelation  was  needed,  and  would  be  a  great 
blessing.  As  none  but  the  lawless  and  profligate  object  to 
equitable  rule  in  families  or  in  states,  none  but  such  can 
dislike  the  administration  of  a  righteous  government  over 
the  universe. 

Proposition  II.  The  Bible  delineates  the  character  of 
an  infinitely  perfect  Creator,  and  enjoins  upon  all  men  such 
actions  and  such  tempers  of  mind  as  might  be  expected  if 
it  were  actually  from  God. 

In  this,  all  serious  readers  of  the  Bible,  of  all  ages,  have 
concurred  :  wherever  this  book  has  been  spread,  it  has  over- 
turned and  banished  every  other  system  of  belief  in  regard 
to  Deity,  nor  have  the  wise  and  good  been  able  to  discover 
the  least  defect  in  this  revelation  of  Jehovah,  or  to  add  a 
single  word  that  could  render  it  more  perfect  or  glorious. 
The  sayings  and  actions  of  very  wicked  men  are  indeed 
recorded,  and  the  sins  of  the  righteous  unsparingly  revealed ; 
yet  no  one  has  ever  found  precepts  which  were  not  wise, 
equitable,  and  good.  The  entire  code  of  Scripture  morals, 
or,  in  other  words,  the  rule  of  human  action,  is  contained 
in  a  few  sentences,  commonly  called  the  ten  commandments , 
which  are  seen  at  a  glance  to  form  a  standard,  simple,  com- 
preliensive,  and  just,  to  perfection.  The  same  perfect  rule 
is  summed  up,  by  one  of  the  prophets,  in  this  beautiful 
sentence  :  "  He  hath  showed  thee,  0  man,  what  is  good  ;  and 
what  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee,  but  to  do  justly,  and 
to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God  ?"  And 
the  Lord  Jesus  has  embodied  the  preceptive  parts  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments  in  these  words  :  "  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all   thy  mind  ;  this  is  the  first  and  great 


SHORT  METHOD  WITH  THE  SCEPTIC.  3 

commandment :  and  the  second  is  like  imto  it,  Tliou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself ;  on  these  two  commandments 
hang  all  the  law  and  the  prophets." 

That  the  morality  of  the  Christian  Scriptures  is  per- 
fect, and  worthy  of  infinite  Wisdom,  distinguished  infidels 
themselves  allow.  Lord  Herbert,  one  of  the  earliest  Eno^- 
lish  deistical  writers,  says,  that  "  Christianity  is  the  best 
religion,  and  that  his  own  universal  religion  of  nature 
agrees  with  Christianity,  and  contributes  to  its  establish- 
ment." Lord  Bolingbroke,  who  wrote  largely  against  the 
Bible,  confesses  that  **  such  moral  perfections  are  in  God 
as  Christians  ascribe  to  him ;  that  Christianity  is  a  repub- 
lication of  the  religion  of  nature,  and  that  its  morals  are 
pure."  Admissions  substantially  like  these  are  made  by 
the  Earl  of  Shaftsbury,  Chubb,  Tindal,  and  other  distin- 
guished infidels  of  Great  Britain.  The  French  sceptic, 
J.  J.  Rousseau,  says,  "  If  all  Avere  perfect  Christians,  indi- 
viduals would  do  their  duty ;  the  people  would  be  obedi- 
ent to  the  laAvs  ;  the  chiefs  just ;  the  magistrates  incorrupt; 
the  soldiers  would  despise  death,  and  there  would  be 
neither  vanity  nor  luxury  in  such  a  state."  Thomas  Paine, 
with  all  his  daring  denial  of  facts  and  gross  ribaldr}^  re- 
specting the  Scriptures,  concedes  that  the  books  of  Ezra, 
Nehemiah,  Ezekiel,  and  Daniel,  are  genuine  ;  not  perceiving 
that  this  admission  inevitably  establishes  the  truth  of  nearly 
the  whole  of  the  Old  Testament,  for  the  books  here  men- 
tioned accredit  most  of  the  prophetical  writings.  Mr.  Paine 
also  declares,  that  our  Saviour  was  *'a  virtuous  and  amiable 
man,  and  that  the  morality  he  preached  and  practised  was 
of  the  most  benevolent  kind." 

From  these  facts,  who  can  avoid  the  conclusion  that  the 
Bible  embodies  just  such  precepts  as  a  holy  God  would 
enjoin — ^just  such  precepts  as  conduce  to  universal  peace 
and  happiness,  and  therefore  may  most  safely  be  obeyed, 
and  ought  to  be  most  faithfully  followed? 


4  SHORT  METHOD  WITH  THE  SCEPTIC. 

Proposition  III.  Christianity  produces  precisely  the 
same  effects  upon  communities  and  individuals,  as  might 
be  expected  if  the  system  were  really  from  heaven. 

Not  a  state  or  community  can  be  found  in  the  whole 
world  oppressed  with  ignorance  or  tyranny,  where  the 
religion  of  the  Bible  is  embraced  by  the  people  ;  and  not 
a  nation  or  tribe  has  been  ever  found,  in  which  science, 
social  happiness,  and  civil  freedom  were  enjoyed  by  the 
mass  of  the  citizens,  except  where  the  Bible  was  read  and 
reverenced.  The  boasted  republics  of  ancient  time  form  no 
exception  to  this  universal  fact.  Not  an  instance  is  known 
to  have  ever  occurred,  where  a  ferocious,  or  dishonest,  or 
licentious  man,  truly  set  himself  to  obey  the  Scriptures, 
without  becoming  an  amiable,  useful,  and  happy  citizen. 
Great  numbers  who  have  called  themselves  Christians,  have 
doubtless  been  hypocrites,  and  some  even  monsters  of  wick- 
edness ;  but  this  fact  can  in  nowise  affect  the  truth  of  the 
Bible,  nor  render  doubtful  its  real  tendency,  since  almost 
every  thing  valuable  or  pure  has  been  corrupted  and  coun- 
terfeited by  those  who  were  wilfully  ignorant,  and  espe- 
cially by  those  who  would  appear  to  be  what  they  were 
not.  Moreover,  sceptics  themselves  evince  their  belief  in  the 
purifying  and  ennobling  tendency  of  Christianity,  for  they 
uniformly  demand  of  its  professors  a  holier  life  than  they 
themselves  maintain ;  and  are  very  ready  to  condemn,  as 
arrant  hypocrisy,  every  appearance  of  selfishness  or  vice  in 
the  church. 

Proposition  TV.  None  have  honestly  and  persever- 
ingly  sought  to  know  the  truth  in  regard  to  Christianity,  at 
the  same  time  living  pure  and  useful  lives,  without  gaining 
assurance  of  its  divine  origin,  and  realizing  to  themselves  its 
power. 

Let  the  history  of  every  distinguished  sceptic  of  other 
days  be  appealed  to,  and  of  every  infidel  now  upon  the 
stage.     The  Scripture  account  of  the  origin  of  infidelity 


SHORT  METHOD  WITH  THE  SCEPTIC.  5 

may  be  easily  and  most  thoroughly  confirmed  :  ''  Men  loved 
darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their  deeds  were  evil ; 
for  every  one  that  doeth  evil  hateth  the  light,  neither  Com- 
eth to  the  light,  lest  his  deeds  should  be  reproved." 
Men  naturally  dislike  that  which  rebukes  and  threatens 
them ;  of  course  those  who  love  sin,  will  turn  away  from 
the  Bible.  From  neglect  of  divine  truth,  and  a  cherished 
hope  that  its  denunciations  against  them  may  not  be  real, 
come  the  beginnings  of  scepticism.  A  few  years'  neglect 
of  religious  instruction  will  leave  men  in  such  darkness  as 
may  make  them  confident  in  errors  which  at  first  were  too 
gross  to  be  embraced.  The  testimony  of  thousands  proves, 
that  w^hen  men  are  ready  heartily  to  forsake  all  vice  and  sin 
in  every  form,  they  find  no  difficulty  in  gaining  an  assur- 
ance of  the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion. 

Proposition  V.  No  individual  is  known  ever  to  have 
regretted  living  a  devoted  Christian  life ;  or  to  have  found 
the  promised  consolations  of  religion  delusive  in  adversity, 
or  in  the  near  prospect  of  death. 

How  can  it  be  accounted  for,  that  the  Gospel  of  Christ 
is  adapted  to  every  emergency,  and  satisfies  every  need  ; 
and  that  the  more  it  is  tried  and  proved  by  sincere  obedi- 
ence, the  more  it  is  found  to  be  "  the  wisdom  of  God,  and 
the  powder  of  God  ?"  How  is  it  that  the  believer,  on  a  sick 
bed  or  in  a  dying  hour,  never  regrets  his  devotedness  to 
Christ,  nor  complains  of  the  insufficiency  of  religion  to  sus- 
tain him ;  Avhile  great  numbers  in  such  seasons  have  re- 
nounced their  scepticism,  and  prayed  and  mourned  for  the 
Christian's  hope  ? 

Proposition  VI.  It  is  irrational,  and  must  be  danger- 
ous, to  reject  a  religion  which  is  essentially  safe,  which  is 
ennobling  to  human  nature,  which  enjoins  loyalty  and  love 
to  supreme  excellence,  and  which  seeks  to  diffuse  happiness 
through  the  whole  earth. 

VOL.  X.  16 


6  SHORT  METHOD  WITH  THE  SCEPTIC. 

Here  let  the  sceptical  reader  pause  and  reflect.  It  can 
never  be  unsafe  to  live  a  humble,  prayerful,  benevolent  life. 
It  cannot  but  be  ennobling  to  strive  after  purity  of  heart, 
and  to  labor  for  the  greatest  good  of  the  whole  human 
family.  It  is  plain  that  Christianity  is  true  to  our  individ- 
ual interests,  wants,  and  hopes  ;  true  to  the  interests  of  the 
world ;  true  to  all  our  superior  relations  ;  and  without  the 
evidence  which  would  prove  the  Gospel  true  to  history,  may 
it  not  be  well  affirmed  that  the  infidel  has  nowhere  solid 
foundation  upon  which  to  rest ;  and  that  the  sceptic  is 
driven  by  the  calm  exercise  of  reason  from  the  last  refuge 
of  his  wicked  disbelief  ? 

As  a  REMEDY  FOR  SCEPTICISM,  then,  we  say,  let  an  indi- 
vidual set  himself  in  earnest  to  live  as  his  better  judgment 
teaches  that  a  man  ought  to  live  who  is  under  the  watchful 
care  of  a  merciful,  just,  and  holy  God ;  and  with  this  tem- 
per let  him  seek  after  truth.  If  his  mind  has  been  long- 
poisoned  by  exposure  to  malign  influences,  let  him,  in  addi- 
tion to  some  treatise  on  the  authenticity  of  the  Scriptures, 
as  Paley's,  Soame  Jenyns',  Bogue's,  or  Bishop  Watson's, 
read  the  memoirs  of  such  men  as  John  Newton  and  Edward 
Payson,  and  especially  let  him  make  himself  a  careful  stu- 
dent of  the  Bible.  Let  no  sceptic,  who  is  unwilling  to 
forsake  his  sins  and  live  a  life  of  practical  godliness,  pretend 
that  reason  or  philosophy  justify  him  in  his  impious  course. 
It  is  not  so. 

The  Bible  promises.  Proverbs  2  :  3-5,  that  those  who 
seek  for  heavenly  wisdom  with  all  their  heart,  shall  find. 
It  proff'ers,  also,  a  divine  influence,  Luke  11:13,  and  James 
1  :  5,  to  those  who  feel  their  need,  and  ask  of  God.  It  even 
declares,  John  V  :  17,  that  if  men  will  do  the  will  of  God 
as  revealed,  they  shall  "  knoiv  "  whether  the  doctrine  be 
eternal  truth.  Let  the  declarations  in  these  passages  be 
tested,  and  let  no  man,  Avho  is  unwilling  to  honor  and  obey 
a  rule  of  perfect  rectitude,  attempt  to  sustain  himself  by  the 
deceits  and  falsehoods  of  infidelitv. 


SHORT  METHOD  WITH  THE  SCEPTIC.  7 

THE  TESTIMONY  OP  AN  INFIDEL. 

A    TRUE    NARRATIVE. 

Mr.  B.  lived  in  London  ;  lie  was  a  man  of  good  abilities, 
successful  in  business,  and  possessed  considerable  property ; 
his  manners  were  gentlemanly,  and  being  lively  and  gay, 
as  well  as  good-tempered,  his  company  was  much  sought. 
With  these  advantages,  to  which  may  be  added  very  excel- 
lent health  and  an  agreeable  person,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
he  was  what  the  world  usually  calls  a  happy  man,  but  we 
must  add  that  he  was,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  an 
infidel  and  blasphemer.  His  greatest  pleasure  was  to  laugh 
at  religion,  and  to  burlesque  the  Bible.  In  company  he 
eagerly  seized  every  opportunity  of  declaring  his  sentiments, 
and  of  laughing  at  and  deriding  any  person  who  professed 
religion.  The  blasphemies  he  uttered  upon  these  occasions 
frequently  were  such  as  to  strike  with  horror,  not  only  the 
persons  who  were  the  subjects  of  his  jokes,  but  also  the 
rest  of  the  company ;  and  to  such  lengths  did  he  proceed, 
that  the  more  moderate  of  his  friends,  when  inviting  him  to 
their  parties,  would  sometimes  require  him  to  promise  that 
he  would,  for  the  time,  refrain  from  profane  discourse ; 
which  promise,  when  given,  he  would  strictly  observe. 

Thus  he  went  on  for  several  years,  enjoying  strong  health, 
and  every  circumstance  which  could  contribute  to  his  worldly 
gratification.  At  length  he  was  attacked  by  a  severe  illness. 
In  a  few  days  the  progress  of  the  disease  was  rapid  ;  he 
was  alarmed,  and  eagerly  inquired  whether  he  was  supposed 
to  be  in  danger.  His  friends,  observing  his  alarm,  and  fear- 
ing a  knowledge  of  the  real  state  of  the  case  would  hasten 
his  end,  concealed  from  him  his  danger,  endeavoring  to 
assure  him  that  his  illness  would  soon  abate.  Some  days 
passed ;  the  disease  increased,  and  he  continued  these  anx- 
ious inquiries  still  more  frequently.  At  length  he  was  con- 
sidered as  decidedly  past  hope  of  recovery,  and  it  became 
necessary  to  acquaint  him  with  his  danger.     His  friends  did 


8  SHORT  METHOD  WITH  THE  SCEPTIC. 

this  in  the  mildest  manner,  still  endeavoring  to  buoy  up  his 
hopes,  and  to  prevent  him  from  being  alarmed ;  but  the 
truth  could  be  no  longer  concealed ;  he  now  saw  his  awful 
state. 

Instantly  he  broke  out  in  the  most  dreadful  exclama- 
tions, crying  out  that  his  soul  was  lost,  and,  for  some  hours, 
continued  to  repeat  similar  expressions ;  at  the  same  time 
groaning  deeply.  After  a  short  interval  he  renewed  his 
exclamation,  declaring  he  was  now  convinced  the  Bible  was 
true,  and  that  there  was  reality  in  religion,  and  expressed 
the  most  earnest  desire  that  his  life  might  be  spared  for  a 
year,  for  a  month,  or  even  for  a  iveek,  that  he  might  declare 
he  was  convinced  of  the  falsehood  of  his  former  opinions.  In 
this  state  he  continued  for  some  time  ;  when  feeling  his  end 
approaching,  he  renewed  his  earnest  wishes,  that  if  he  could 
not  be  spared  for  a  week,  a  day,  a  single  day  might  be 
granted,  that  he  might  warn  others,  as  he  himself  ''  was 
going  to  hell."  At  length  he  cried  out,  "/  am  sinking 
into  hell  f — Oh,  the  burning — the  hurning — the  torments  of 
hell/"  This,  and  similar  exclamations,  he  continued  to 
utter  while  life  lasted,  (for  about  thirty  hours  longer,) 
shrieking  and  groaning  so  dreadfully  that  his  friends  all  fled 
his  bedside,  and  even  the  nurse,  accustomed  as  she  was  to 
death-bed  scenes,  could  scarcely  be  induced  to  continue  in 
the  room.  At  length  he  expired,  on  the  third  day  after  his 
danger  was  communicated  to  him :  the  whole  interval  hav- 
ing been  a  continued  scene  of  horror  and  despair,  Avhich  the 
pen  fails  to  describe,  and  the  imagination  is  unable  fully  to 
conceive. 

There  are  several  persons  now  living  (1819)  who  bear 
testimony  to  the  truth  of  this  narrative. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE   AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


No.   375. 

A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 


BY  A  MEMBER  OP  THE  BAR. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  LETTER  ADDRESSED  BY  ONE  MEMBER  OF  THE 
BAR  TO  ANOTHER,  AND  TO  A^HICH  THESE  PAGES  MAY  BE  RE- 
GARDED AS  AN  ANSWER. 

"  You  too,  it  seems,  have  joined  the  church.  What  does  this 
mean  ?  I  have  been  inclined  to  think,  that  men  of  business  could 
find  better  employment. 

"  Give  me  your  honest  thoughts  on  the  subject." 

About  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  a  small  tract  of 
country  bordering  on  the  Mediterranean  sea,  and  commonly 
known  by  the  name  of  Palestine,  or  the  land  of  Judea,  and 
which  now  forms  a  part  of  Asiatic  Turkey,  was  inhabited 
by  a  peculiar  race  of  people,  called  the  Jews.  The  north- 
ern and  most  barren  province  of  this  country,  in  conse- 
quence of  its  frontier  position,  was  called  Galilee  of  the 
Gentiles ;  and  although  the  inhabitants  were  principally 
Jews,  yet  their  habits,  their  language  and  accent,  differed 
so  essentially  from  those  of  their  southern  and  more  pol- 
ished neighbors,  that  they  were  generally  esteemed  the 
most  simple  and  ignorant  part  of  the  Jewish  nation. 

In  the  interior  of  Galilee  there  was  a  small  lake  of  fresh 
water,  about  twelve  miles  in  length,  by  some  three  or  four 
in  breadth,  near  the  head  of  which  was  situated  a  small 
village  called  Capernaum,  and  which  was  supported  chiefly 
by  the  fisheries  on  the  borders  of  the  lake.  Shortly  after 
the  Roman  empire  had  extended  itself  over  the  entire  civil- 
ized world,  and  Herod,  through  the  joint  interest  of  Caesar 

and  Mark  Antony,    had    been  appointed  king  of  Judea  by 
VOL.  X.  1(5* 


2  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

the  senate  of  Rome,  a  person  about  thirty  years  of  age 
made  his  appearance  in  the  obscure  village  of  Capernaum, 
as  a  public  teacher  in  religion ;  or,  as  was  supposed  by 
some  of  his  contemporaries,  as  a  founder  of  a  new  religious 
sect.  Of  his  early  life  little  is  known,  except  that  he  was 
born  of  poor  and  illiterate  parents,  who  resided  in  the  small 
town  of  Nazareth,  about  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  distant  from 
Capernaum.  His  father  was  a  carpenter,  and  it  is  probable 
that  the  son  followed  the  same  occupation,  until  about  the 
time  he  removed  to  Capernaum,  where  he  first  commenced 
his  public  instructions  in  religion.  As  he  travelled  from 
place  to  place,  on  the  shores  of  lake  Gennesaret  and  its 
vicinity,  he  collected  about  him  a  few  poor,  illiterate  fisher- 
men and  tent-makers,  whom  he  called  his  disciples ;  a  com- 
mon appellation,  in  that  age,  for  the  followers  of  any  sect 
in  religion  or  philosophy.  In  the  space  of  about  three 
years,  in  company  with  his  disciples,  he  visited  most  or  all 
of  the  towns  and  villages  in  Palestine ;  but  the  doctrines 
he  taught,  and  the  principles  he  inculcated,  Avere  almost 
everywhere  spoken  against,  and  himself  and  his  disciples 
were  most  commonly  ridiculed  and  despised  by  the  wise 
and  learned  men  of  that  day.  He  at  length  came  to  Jeru- 
salem, the  metropolis  of  the  Jewish  nation,  then  one  of  the 
most  populous  and  beautiful  cities  of  the  East,  where  he 
was  arrested  upon  a  charge  of  high  treason  against  Ceesar, 
and  of  blasphemy  against  the  Jewish  religion,  and  was  put 
to  death  as  a  malefactor.  His  disciples  forsook  him,  and 
fled ;  and  thus  there  seemed  to  be  an  end  of  the  religion  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

His  disciples,  however,  within  a  few  weeks  after  his 
death,  reassembled  at  Jerusalem ;  and  having  made  some 
preliminary  arrangements,  undertook  to  carry  into  execu- 
tion one  of  the  last  commands  of  their  Master — that,  **  be- 
ginning at  Jerusalem,"  they  should  *'go  into  all  the  world. 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  3 

and  preach  his  Gospel  to  every  creature."  The  conse- 
quence was,  that  the  rehgion  of  Christ  revived  and  spread 
■with  renewed  vigor,  not  only  in  Judea,  the  soil  that  gave  it 
birth,  but  throughout  Asia,  Africa,  and  Europe ;  and  it  has 
ever  since  prevailed,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  in  most  or 
all  of  the  civilized  nations  of  the  earth  ;  and  at  the  present 
day,  we  see  it  exerting  no  small  influence  over  quite  a  large 
portion  of  the  human  family. 

In  tracing  the  history  of  this  system  of  religion,  a  fact 
somewhat  remarkable  presents  itself  at  every  step  in  our 
progress.  It  is,  that  in  every  age,  and  in  every  country 
where  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  has  prevailed,  his  true 
disciples  are,  generally,  found  among  the  common  and 
humbler  classes  of  mankind  ;  while  few  men  of  wealth  and 
rank  have  embraced  his  principles,  or  submitted  to  his  au- 
thority. That  such  was  the  character  of  the  early  Chris- 
tians, we  have  authority  much  less  questionable  than  that  of 
Tacitus,  the  Roman  historian  of  that  period.  Among  the 
converts  to  Christianity  in  the  first  century,  was  a  learned 
Jew,  a  contemporary  of  Tacitus,  and  a  native  of  Tarsus,  in 
Cilicia.  He  was  a  Roman  citizen  by  birth,  and  resided  in 
the  city  of  Rome  about  two  years,  during  the  reign  of  the 
emperor  Nero.  He  travelled  throughout  Asia,  visited 
Spain,  and,  as  some  think,  the  southern  parts  of  England ; 
and  from  his  writings,  several  of  which  are  still  extant,  he 
appears  to  have  been  a  man  of  talents,  and  an  accurate  ob- 
server of  human  character.  In  one  of  his  letters,  written 
at  Ephesus,  a  city  of  Asia  Minor,  to  his  friends  at  Corinth, 
in  speaking  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  of  the  character 
of  its  professors,  he  says,  "  Not  many  wise  men  of  the 
world,  not  many  mighty,  not  many  noble  are  called."  This 
character,  drawn  by  one  of  the  ablest  advocates  of  Chris- 
tianity, has  been  confirmed,  by  the  experience  of  every  suc- 
ceeding age,  throughout  a  period  of  eighteen  hundred  years. 


4  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

It  is  true,  that  the  wise  men  of  the  world  have  bestowed 
their  honors  upon  the  Christian  name.  In  about  three  cen- 
turies from  the  death  of  Christ,  not  only  the  city  of  Rome, 
which  Tacitus,  in  the  first  century,  considered  as  polluted  by 
the  mere  introduction  of  Christianity,  but  the  whole  Roman 
empire,  with  all  its  dominions,  principalities,  and  powers, 
had  renounced  their  national  superstitions,  and  adopted  the 
religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  inhabitants  of  the  earth  have 
assumed  the  Christian  name  by  nations ;  and  Christian  na- 
tions have  congregated  themselves  into  one  vast  dominion 
under  the  general  name  of  Christendom.  The  rights  of 
property,  of  reputation,  and  of  life,  have  been  made  to  de- 
pend upon  the  sacredness  of  an  oath  administered  upon  a 
book  purporting  to  contain  his  history  and  the  principles 
of  his  religion ;  and  instead  of  the  Olympiads  of  Greece, 
and  the  foundation  of  the  '*  Eternal  City,"  Anno  Domini 
has  become  the  landmark  in  the  history  and  chronology  of 
the  world. 

But  how  does  it  happen,  that  Christianity  has  so  long- 
been  the  prevalent  religion  among  the  most  refined  and  op- 
ulent nations  of  the  earth,  and  yet  so  few  men  of  talents, 
wealth,  and  distinction,  have  embraced  its  principles,  or 
acknowledged  its  authority  ? 

The  first  inquiry  obviously  is,  What  is  Christianity/? 
What  are  its  pretensions  ?  Is  it  based  upon  the  principles 
of  common- sense  ?  Does  it  open  a  field  for  thought  and 
the  exercise  of  intellect  ?  Or  is  it  adapted  only  to  men  of 
uncultivated  minds,  like  the  illiterate  fishermen  of  Galilee, 
to  whom  it  was  first  promulgated  ?  Is  it  consistent  with 
human  reason  and  the  dignity  of  human  nature  ?  Or  is  it, 
like  the  religious  systems  of  Egypt,  Greece,  and  Rome,  a 
mere  instrument  in  the  hands  of  the  crafty  and  the  ambi- 
tious, to  keep  an  ignorant  and  unruly  populace  in  subjec- 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  5 

tion?  Will  it  stand  the  test  of  a  sound,  discriminating 
judgment  ?  Or  is  it,  like  the  Pagan  and  Mohammedan  su- 
perstitions of  our  own  day,  grounded  upon  the  fears  of  the 
timid  and  the  passions  of  the  sensualist  ?  Is  it  based  upon 
the  principles  of  truth  and  justice  ?  Or  is  it  an  imposture, 
palmed  upon  the  credulous  and  superstitious  by  a  cunning 
and  ambitious  priesthood  ? 

In  order  to  obtain  a  more  satisfactory  answer  to  these 
questions,  it  may  be  well  to  take  a  brief  survey  of  ourselves, 
as  rational  and  intelligent  beings.  Let  a  man,  for  a  few 
moments,  turn  his  thoughts  upon  himself.  He  finds  that 
he  has  a  body  evidently  material,  but  which  assumed  its 
form  and  advanced  to  maturity  by  the  operation  of  causes 
over  which  he  had  little  or  no  control.  Within  this  body 
there  is  a  mysterious  something,  called  the  soul,  conscious 
of  its  own  existence  and  identity,  and  possessed  of  powers 
capable  of  improvement  and  expansion  beyond  any  assign- 
able limits.  It  is  the  arbiter  of  all  his  movements,  and 
uses  the  various  members  of  the  body,  like  instruments  in 
the  hand  of  a  mechanic,  to  execute  the  purposes  of  its  own 
"will.  It  is  the  seat  of  a  constant  restlessness  and  solici- 
tude ;  dissatisfied  with  what  it  has,  and  ever  grasping  for 
what  it  has  not ;  and  oftentimes,  from  its  own  action  upon 
itself,  it  feels  an  agony  of  suffering  almost  beyond  endur- 
ance. There  was  a  time  when  it  began  to  exist,  and  to  be 
conscious  of  its  existence  ;  but  w^hether  that  existence  shall 
ever  end,  whether  that  consciousness  shall  ever  cease  to  be 
felt,  what  was  its  origin,  and  w^hat  shall  be  its  destiny,  are 
questions  not  to  be  solved  by  any  exertions  of  its  own 
powers.  It  exists,  it  thinks,  it  feels — all  beyond  is  doubt 
and  mystery. 

If  he  directs  his  attention  to  other  objects  than  himself, 
he  finds  them  equally  mysterious  and  incomprehensible. 
He  is  located  upon  the  surface  of  a  globe  many  thousand 


6  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

miles  in  diameter,  and  which,  by  the  aid  of  certain  instru- 
ments of  his  own  construction,  he  finds  to  be  one  of  a  vast 
number  of  worlds,  at  immense  distances  from  each  other, 
and  moving  with  inconceivable  velocity  around  a  common 
centre,  which  centre  is  itself  supposed  to  be  moving  through 
unknown  regions  of  space.  He  occupies  this  globe  as  a 
tenant  in  common  with  a  multitude  of  other  beings  of  like 
powers  and  faculties  with  himself,  divided  into  numerous 
families,  and  kindreds,  and  tongues,  and  nations,  capable  of 
a  mutual  interchange  of  thoughts,  and  feelings,  and  sympa- 
thies ;  actuated  by  a  thousand  different  motives,  and  in 
pursuit  of  a  thousand  different  objects ;  but  whose  origin 
and  destiny,  like  his  own,  and  that  of  the  universe  around 
him,  are  beyond  the  comprehension  of  the  human  intellect. 
Among  these  mysterious  objects  there  is  one  calculated 
above  all  others  to  arrest  his  attention  and  concentrate  his 
thoughts.  By  the  operation  of  some  unknown  cause,  one 
of  his  companions  is  seized  with  a  weariness,  and  anxiety, 
aand  Issitude.  His  bodily  powers  gradually  become  disor- 
ganized, and  cease  to  perform  their  ordinary  functions.  At 
length  his  limbs  and  trunk  become  motionless.  His  blood 
stagnates  at  the  heart — his  breath  ceases — he  loses  what  is 
called  his  life — his  body,  if  left  to  itself,  soon  becomes  a 
mass  of  putrefaction ;  and  his  friends  and  neighbors,  from 
motives  of  self-preservation,  are  compelled  to  remove  him 
from  their  sight,  and  deposit  him  in  the  earth,  where  he 
moulders  into  dust,  and  his  name  and  memory  are  forgot- 
ten. Nor  is  this  a  phenomenon  of  rare  occurrence.  The 
whole  population  of  the  globe  varies  but  little  from  ten 
hundred  millions :  and  of  this  number,  not  less  than  eighty- 
six  thousand  four  hundred  every  day,  or  three  thousand  six 
hundred  every  hour,  become  thus  motionless  and  lifeless, 
and  are  either  committed  to  the  flames,  plunged  into  the 
deep,  or  buried  beneath  the  earth  by  their  survivors.     Nor 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  7 

does  this  happen  for  a  single  hour,  or  a  single  day.  From 
very  remote  periods  it  is  found,  that  upon  an  average  the 
whole  globe  has  been  depopulated  by  this  mysterious  agen- 
cy called  death,  and  repeopled  by  another  agency  scarcely 
less  mysterious,  once  in  about  every  thirty  years  ;  and  thus 
generation  has  succeeded  generation,  like  the  waves  of  the 
sea,  from  the  time  whereof  the  memory  of  man  runneth  not 
to  the  contrary. 

And  is  this  the  destiny  of  all  who  now  inhabit  the  eai-th  ? 
Is  this  immense  throng,  with  all  its  bustle,  and  business, 
and  luxur}'',  and  dissipation,  and  sport,  and  folly,  to  close 
its  career  in  the  silence  and  solitude  of  the  tomb  ?  Is  this 
the  common  portion  of  the  young  and  the  old,  the  high  and 
the  low,  the  rich  and  the  poor  ?  And  am  I  too  included  in 
this  general  doom  ?  Is  it  a  fact,  that  I  too  must  leave  for 
ever  all  my  present  employments  and  pleasures  ?  Is  it  a 
fact,  that  the  places  which  now  know  me,  will  know  me  no 
more  for  ever  ?  Is  it  a  fact,  that  these  active  and  vigorous 
limbs  will  become  cold,  and  stiff,  and  motionless  ?  Is  it  a 
fact,  that  the  time  will  come  when  this  heart  of  mine,  which 
has  so  long  and  so  faithfully  circulated  the  current  of  life, 
must  exhaust  itself  in  its  own  struggles,  and  cease  for  ever 
from  its  labors  ?  Is  it  a  fact,  that  the  time  will  come  when 
I  too,  in  the  agonies  of  dissolving  nature,  must  breathe 
forth  that  last,  convulsive  groan,  which  proclaims  that 
death  has  won  another  victory  ?  Is  it  a  fact,  that  this  body 
which  I  have  so  long  and  so  carefully  fed,  and  clothed,  and 
nourished,  must  lie  buried  beneath  the  earth,  and  there  in 
silence  and  solitude  moulder  into  dust,  and  be  remembered 
no  more  for  ever  ?  And  is  this  the  end  of  my  being — the 
end  of  consciousness — the  end  of  thouofht  ?  Is  this  lone:- 
ing  after  immortality — this  inward  dread — this  startling 
and  shrinking  back  of  the  soul  upon  itself,  at  the  thought 
of  its  own  annihilation,  the  dream  of  a  disordered  fancy  ? 


8  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

Or  will  this  mysterious  something  within  me  rise  above  the 
ruins  of  its  earthly  tabernacle,  and  enter  upon  some  un- 
known and  untried  state  of  being  ?  What  then  shall  be 
my  employment,  and  where  shall  be  my  home  ?  Shall  I 
be  still  myself  ?  Shall  I  mingle  with  other  kindred  spirits, 
and  unfold  new  energies,  and  find  new  employments,  new 
joys,  and  new  sorrows  ?  Or  is  death  an  endless  sleep ; 
and  will  the  soul,  faithful  to  the  tenement  which  it  has  so 
long  inhabited,  sink  with  the  body  into  one  common  grave, 
and  for  ever  cease  to  feel — cease  to  think — and  cease  to 
be? 

And  is  it  a  fact,  that  these  momentous  questions  are 
still  open — still  undecided  ?  Has  nothing  occurred  in  the 
history  of  our  race  to  tell  us  what  we  are,  or  what  we  shall 
be  ?  Did  the  progenitor  of  our  race,  if  progenitor  we  had, 
leave  no  record  behind  him  to  tell  his  posterity  how  and 
whence  he  derived  his  being,  and  what  should  be  their  final 
destiny  ?  Of  the  innumerable  millions  of  our  race,  which 
for  so  many  ages  have  been  thronging  the  regions  of  the 
dead,  has  no  one  ever  returned  to  tell  us  what  there  may 
be  beyond  the  dark  confines  of  the  grave?  And  is  this 
the-state  of  man,  with  all  his  wisdom,  and  forethought,  and 
mighty  intellect  ?  Must  he  live,  and  die,  and  sink  into  the 
grave,  in  the  midst  of  such  uncertainties — so  ignorant  of 
himself,  of  his  being  and  destiny ;  with  such  startling 
doubts  whether,  To  be,  or  not  to  be — happiness  or  woe — 
life  eternal  or  death  everlasting,  is  to  be  his  portion  beyond 
the  tomb  ?  No — the  mystery  is  solved.  Glad  tidings 
have  reached  us  from  beyond  the  grave.  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth— the  despised,  the  rejected,  the  crucified  Jesus  of 
Nazareth — has  solved  the  mystery.  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
the  Sun  of  the  moral  universe,  has  risen  over  the  night 
of  the  grave,  with  healing  in  his  beams,  and  revealed  the 
most  momentous  truth  that  ever  can  be  brought  within  the 


A   FEW  THOUGHTS.  9 

range  of  the  human  intellect,  that  the  soul  of  man  shall 

LIVE  FOR  EVER. 

The  question  then  recurs,  What  is  Christianity ;  and 
what  does  it  tell  us  of  our  being  and  our  destiny  ? 

It  tells  us,  that  there  is  one  great,  invisible,  self-existent 
Being — infinite  in  wisdom — infinite  in  power — a  spirit,  infi- 
nitely pure — infinitely  holy — the  Maker  and  Ruler  of  the 
universe,  and  whose  existence  is  from  everlasting  to  ever- 
lasting— without  beginning,  and  without  end.  That  at  some 
remote  period  in  the  eternity  of  his  existence,  this  great 
and  good  Being  saw  fit  to  create  the  earth  we  now  inhabit, 
gave  it  a  place  in  the  magnificent  system  of  worlds  of 
which  it  continues  to  form  a  part,  and  subjected  its  move- 
ments to  those  great  laws  which  regulate  and  control  the 
material  universe,  That  about  six  thousand  years  ago,  God, 
out  of  the  dust  of  the  earth,  created  Man  in  his  own  moral 
image,  breathed  into  him  an  immortal  soul,  and  fixed  his 
habitation  in  the  plains  of  Asia,  then  a  paradise,  with 
directions  to  dress,  and  cultivate,  and  people  the  earth. 
That  Adam,  as  he  came  from  the  hands  of  his  Maker,  was 
pure  and  holy,  with  all  the  affections  of  his  heart  centered 
upon  God,  and  his  supreme  delight  to  worship  and  adore 
his  great  Creator  and  Benefactor.  That  to  Adam,  thus 
created  and  thus  blessed,  God,  as  his  Sovereign,  gave  cer- 
tain laws,  holy,  just,  and  good — the  sum  of  whose  require- 
ments was,  that  man  should  continue  to  obey  and  love  his 
Creator  supremely  ;  and,  to  the  violation  of  which,  not  only 
death,  or  the  dissolution  of  the  body  into  its  original  dust, 
but  banishment  of  the  soul  from  the  presence  and  favor  of 
his  Maker,  and  consequently  misery  and  woe,  without  limi- 
tation and  without  end,  were  annexed  as  penalties.  That 
Adam  was  fully  endowed  by  his  Creator  with  a  capacity 
either  to  obey  or  disobey  the  divine  law,  according  to  the 
free,  voluntary  determination  of  his  own  will.     That  in  the 

VOL.  X.  17 


10  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

exercise  of  this  absolute,  unqualified  freedom  of  choice, 
Adam  did  wilfully  and  deliberately  transgress  the  divine 
law,  and  thereby  lost  at  once  the  moral  image  of  his  Maker, 
all  actual  enjoyment  of  him,  and  all  true  desires  to  know 
and  serve  him.  That  upon  this  act  of  disobedience  the 
earth  was  cursed  by  its  Maker,  and  Adam  was  cast  out  of 
paradise,  a  fugitive  and  a  wanderer,  justly  exposed  to  the 
tremendous  penalties  of  the  violated  law.  That  this  same 
Adam  became  the  progenitor — the  common  father  of  the 
whole  human  family  ;  and  that  all  his  posterity,  from  gen- 
eration to  generation,  have  continually  followed  in  his  foot- 
steps, wandering  far  from  God,  disliking  to  retain  him  in 
their  thoughts,  loving  supremely  other  and  unworthy  ob- 
jects, and  living  in  continual  disobedience  to  his  holy  com- 
mandments ;  and  thus  all  are  guilty,  and  consequently 
deserving  the  fearful  retributions  of  divine  justice.  That 
man  being  thus  lost  and  ruined,  God,  in  his  infinite  mercy, 
devised  a  plan  which  preserved  inviolate  the  purity  and  in- 
tegrity of  his  law,  and  at  the  same  time  opened  a  way  by 
which  Adam  and  all  his  fallen  race  might  be  pardoned  and 
restored  to  the  love,  and  favor,  and  presence  of  their  Ma- 
ker. That  by  this  plan  it  was  provided  that  at  some  future 
time  God  the  Son  would  descend  upon  the  earth,  and  take 
upon  himself  a  human  form  ;  and  by  a  perfect  obedience  to 
the  holy  law  of  God,  and  by  his  own  personal  sufferings 
and  an  ignominious  death  upon  the  cross,  make  an  atone- 
ment for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world.  That  the  atonement 
thus  to  be  made  is  sufficient  to  cover  all  the  sins  of  all  man- 
kind ;  but  that  in  order  to  receive  its  benefits,  and  secure 
the  salvation  of  the  soul,  every  man  must  exercise  a  genuine 
sorrow  for  having  violated  the  laws  of  God,  and  place  his 
entire  reliance  for  salvation  upon  the  atonement  thus  made 
by  the  Son  of  God  ;  in  the  just  performance  of  which,  the 
heart,  under  the  influences  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  becomes 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  H 

renewed,  and  all  its  affections  restored  to  God  as  the  su- 
preme object  of  love  and  gratitude.  That  the  life  of  man 
is  a  state  of  trial  or  probation,  during  the  continuance  of 
which  the  terms  of  salvation  are  freely  offered  to  his 
acceptance.  That  death,  the  great  crisis  in  our  being,  ter- 
minates for  ever  this  state  of  probation ;  and  upon  the  dis- 
solution of  the  body,  the  soul  enters  at  once  into  the  world 
of  spirits,  and  there  receives  its  doom  according  to  the 
character  it  formed  while  an  inhabitant  of  this  earth.  If  it 
has  truly  repented  of  its  sins  and  led  a  life  of  holiness,  it 
receives  the  approbation  of  its  Maker,  takes  up  its  everlast- 
ing abode  in  his  presence,  feels  no  more  pain,  no  more  sor- 
row, no  more  trouble  ;  mingles  with  other  kindred  spirits 
of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  lives  and  expatiates  for  ever 
in  the  enjoyment  of  such  blessings  **  as  eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man 
to  conceive  :"  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  life  has  passed 
away  without  repentance,  and  without  reconciliation  to 
God  through  the  atonement,  the  soul  is  banished  from  the 
presence  of  its  Maker  ;  and,  overwhelmed  with  a  conscious- 
ness of  its  own  guilt,  sinks  into  the  world  of  despair,  where 
hope  never  comes,  and  where  those  dreadful  agonies  which 
are  sometimes  felt  in  this  life,  take  complete  possession  of 
the  soul,  and  become  "  the  gnawings  of  a  worm  that  never 
dies,  and  the  burnings  of  a  fire  that  is  never  quenched." 

Christianity  also  tells  us,  that  at  the  appointed  time  the 
Son  of  God  did  descend  upon  the  earth,  and  in  the  person 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  dwelt  among  men  for  the  space  of 
thirty  years.  That  he  was  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquaint- 
ed with  grief  ;  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men  ;  was 
mocked,  and  buffeted,  and  spit  upon ;  and  at  length,  press- 
ed down  and  overwhelmed  with  the  accumulated  load  of 
human  guilt,  he  was  crucified  between  two  thieves  :  an 
event  which  filled  all  heaven  with  wonder  and  amazement. 


12  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

and  the  contemplation  of  which  will  swell  the  bosoms  of 
redeemed  spirits  with  love  and  gratitude  throughout  the 
never-ending  ages  of  eternity.  That  he  was  buried,  and 
on  the  third  day  rose  from  the  dead ;  that  he  ascended  into 
heaven,  and  now  sits  on  the  right  hand  of  God  the  Father 
Almighty,  the  Prince  and  Saviour  of  the  world.  That  the 
earth  is  not  to  remain  for  ever  the  habitation  of  man ;  but 
that  a  day  is  fixed  by  Him  who  made  it,  when  the  Son  of 
God  shall  again  descend  from  heaven  in  his  glory,  and  all 
the  holy  angels  with  him ;  that  at  his  presence  the  earth 
and  the  heavens  shall  flee  away,  and  no  place  be  found  for 
them  ;  that  all  who  are  in  their  graves,  both  small  and 
great,  shall  stand  before  him,  and  he  shall  separate  them 
as  a  shepherd  divideth  his  sheep  from  the  goats;  and  he 
shall  set  the  sheep  on  his  right  hand,  but  the  goats  on  the 
left :  then  shall  he  say  unto  them  on  his  right  hand,  Come, 
ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for 
you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world :  and  then  shall  he 
also  say  unto  them  on  his  left  hand,  Depart  from  me,  ye 
cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his 
angels ;  and  these  shall  go  away  into  everlasting  punish- 
ment ;  but  the  righteous  into  life  eternal.  And  thus  shall 
end  this  world's  eventful  history ;  and  the  destiny  of  every 
son  and  daughter  of  Adam  being  thus  irrevocably  fixed,  the 
ages  of  eternity  will  again  roll  onward,  and  this  earth,  with 
all  its  concerns,  will  be  numbered  among  the  things  that 
have  been,  but  are  not. 

Such,  Christianity  tells  us,  is  the  origin,  and  such  the 
final  destiny  of  our  race.  Nor  need  we  stop  to  show  that 
what  Christianity  tells  us  is  true,  and  entitled  to  our  con- 
fidence. No :  the  foundations  of  the  Christian  reliafion  are 
laid  too  deep  and  too  broad ;  its  evidences  are  too  clear 
and  too  convincing;  its  provisions  are  too  kindly  adapted 
to  the  wants,  the  necessities,  the  longings  of  an  immortal 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  13 

mind,  ever  to  be  rejected  by  the  sincere  inquirer  after  truth 
and  happiness  ;  and  it  may  be  asserted,  without  the  fear  of 
contradiction,  that  no  man  ever  yet  hved,  in  any  age  or 
country,  and  remained  an  infidel,  who  read  the  Bible  with 
an  honest  heart,  and  a  sincere  desire  to  know  the  truth. 

The  question  then  recurs.  Why  is  it  that  so  few  men  of 
wealth,  of  influence,  of  rank,  are  found  among  the  true  dis- 
ciples of  Jesus  Christ  ? 

The  answer  may  be  given  in  a  few  words.  They  will 
not  take  time  for  serious  rejection.  Look  abroad  through- 
out the  length  and  breadth  of  our  land.  How  many  of  our 
lawyers,  and  physicians,  and  statesmen,  have  ever  examined 
the  evidences  of  the  Christian  religion  with  any  degree  of 
faithfulness  ?  How  manv  have  ever  read  the  Bible  with  a 
sincere  desire  to  know  whether  its  contents  are  true  or 
false  ?  How  many  who  may  charice  to  read  these  lines, 
have  ever  spent  one  single  hour  in  the  serious  contempla- 
tion of  death,  and  its  moftientous  consequences  ?  How 
many  have  ever  permitted  the  mind  to  dwell,  for  a  single 
hour,  upon  that  great  truth,  that  the  soul  is  immortal ;  that 
this  life  is  but  the  dawn  of  its  existence,  and  that  it  yet  has 
an  eternity  to  spend  in  some  imknown  and  untried  state  of 
being  beyond  the  grave  ?  Not  that  religious  thoughts  are 
entirely  excluded  from  the  mind.  At  some  leisure  moment 
a  superficial  view  is  taken  of  the  Christian  world  as  divided 
into  sects,  regulated  by  various  forms  and  ceremonies,  gov- 
erned by  different  constitutions  and  laws,  and,  alas,  too 
often  distracted  by  sectarian  and  theological  controversies. 
Without  stopping  to  notice  the  great  and  important  fact, 
that  all  Christians  harmonize  upon  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciples of  Christianity  ;  that  all  unite  upon  the  essential 
requisites  to  fit  man  for  happiness  in  this  world  and  the 
world  to  come ;  the  hasty  inference  is  drawn,  that  religion 
is  nothing  more  than  opinions  and  disputes,  or  a  talk  about 

VOL.  X.  17* 


14  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

outward  .duties,  alike  beneath  the  serious  regard  of  a  culti- 
vated and  an  intelligent  mind. 

It  is  true,  the  claims  of  Christianity  are  sometimes  more 
closely  pressed  upon  the  heart  and  conscience.  Take,  for 
instance,  the  lawyer.*  It  is  Saturday  night.  Court  has 
adjourned  late.  He  returns  home  weary  and  exhausted  in 
body  and  mind.  He  seats  himself  in  his  office.  **  To  what 
purpose  is  all  this  labor,  and  Aveariness,  and  anxiety  ? 
What  real  advantage  do  I  hope  to  derive  from  all  these 
struggles,  and  projects,  and  speculations  ?  Suppose  I  ac- 
quire wealth  and  reputation,  can  they  make  me  happy? 
Alas,  I  am  weary  of  them  even  now.  I  know  and  feel 
that  this  soul  of  mine  was  created  for  nobler  purposes. 
My  possessions  too  I  must  soon  leave.  Leave  ? — and 
where  shall  I  then  go  ?  To  a  world  for  which  I  have  made 
no  preparation.  To  a  world  of  disembodied  spirits,  where 
nothing  of  all  that  I  value  here  will  be  of  the  least  use  to  me. 
Why,  then,  this  labor  and  anxiety  ?  What  folly  !  What 
madness  !  Why  not  at  once  follow  the  dictates  of  reason  and 
common-sense,  and  begin  to  live  for  something  better  ?" 

To  one  ignorant  of  the  human  heart,  it  would  seem  that 
this  man  was  almost  a  Christian  :  but  mark  the  result.  A 
thought  connected  with  the  transactions  of  the  day  strikes 
his  mind — an  important  cause  just  decided — a  bad  debt 
secured — a  speculation — a  motion  in  court — and  thus 
thought  after  thought  drops  into  the  mind  and  expels  at 
once  all  serious  reflections.  He  plunges  deeper  than  ever 
into  his  business ;  and  the  consequence  probably  is,  that 
the  same  scene  will  be  repeated  again  and  again  with  simi- 
lar results,  till  at  length  death  dissolves  the  spell,  and 
ushers  his  immortal  spirit,  unprepared,  into  the  presence 
of  his  God. 

*  A  similar  train  of  thought  is  found  in  AbhoWs  Magazine^ 
Vol.  1,  No.  12. 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  15 

Take  the  physician.  He  has  just  witnessed  the  last  mo- 
ments of  a  Christian.  During  the  progress  of  the  disease 
nothing  remarkable  Avas  observed,  except  a  somewhat  more 
than  usual  degree  of  patience  and  resignation,  accompanied 
with  a  uniform  feeling  of  thankfulness  for  all  the  little 
kindnesses  bestowed  upon  him  by  his  friends.  Once,  upon 
receiving  some  little  refreshment  tendered  by  the  kind  hand 
of  some  one  of  the  family,  there  was  seen  on  his  counte- 
nance an  expression  of  anxiety  amounting  almost  to  an- 
guish. It  was  the  thought  that  he  was  so  soon  to  go 
away,  and  leave  behind  him  those  who  were  so  kind  to  him, 
and  whom  he  so  tenderly  loved.  But  the  cloud  soon 
passed  away,  and  his  countenance  resumed  its  wonted 
calmness  and  serenity.  At  length  the  hour  of  his  depart- 
ure arrives.  There  is  no  wild  commotion — no  enthusiastic 
extravagance.  His  features  are  much  wasted,  and  his  eye, 
though  somewhat  sunk  in  the  socket,  is  full  of  calmness 
and  hope.  His  countenance  beams  with  unwonted  serenity, 
and  a  kind  of  mysterious  energy  comes  over  him  which  is 
felt  by  all  about  him.  *'  I  am  going,"  says  he,  "  the  way 
of  all  the  earth.  I  feel  that  the  hand  of  death  is  upon  me, 
and  that  I  am  about  entering  upon  the  realities  of  the 
eternal  world.  But  I  am  willing  to  go.  I  have  tried  to 
love  and  serve  my  Saviour  ;  and  0,  now  he  does  not  for- 
sake me.  Wife  and  children,  grieve  not  for  me.  Be  dili- 
gent— be  faithful ;  and  after  a  few  more  days  of  sorrow 
and  affliction,  we  shall  all  meet  again — root  and  branch — all 
gathered  home — a  family  in  heaven."  A  long,  deep  res- 
piration announces  that  the  soul  has  gone  to  Him  who 
made  it. 

The  physician  retires,  and  proceeds  slowly  towards 
home.  "  This  certainly  was  not  a  nervous  affection,  nor  an 
affection  of  the  brain,  nor  any  thing  of  a  spasmodic  nature. 
What  was  it?     He  was  a  Christian  :  that  is  the  secret — 


16  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

and  I  too  am  determined  to  become  a  Christian.  I  will  set 
about  a  preparation  for  another  world.  Nothing  else  is 
comparatively  of  any  importance.  To  be  ready  and  willing 
to  die !  0,  let  me  have  the  Christian's  hope.  Let  me 
die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like 
his."  Such  are  his  reflections  :  and  does  he  become  a 
Christian  ?  Alas,  these  serious  thoughts  and  serious 
promises  are  all  chased  out  of  the  mind  by  the  bare 
recollection  of  some  unusual  symptom  which  manifested 
itself  in  the  progress  of  the  disease,  or  by  some  trifling 
inquiry  of  a  neighbor  ;  or  else  the  consideration  of  the 
whole  matter  is  postponed /or  the  2^resent. 

Incidents  like  these  are  of  daily  occurrence.  Men  of 
business,  professional  men,  politicians,  men  of  intelligence, 
have  not  time  to  think  seriously  on  the  subject  of  religion. 
Wealth,  reputation,  intellectual  gratification,  are  paramount 
objects  ;  and  such  indeed  is  their  influence  over  the  human 
heart,  that  it  is  noticed  as  a  remarkable  fact,  that  few  men 
ever  become  truly  pious  after  they  arrive  at  the  age  of 
thirty  years.  At  or  about  this  period  in  life,  almost  every 
man  experiences  a  kind  of  constitutional  change — a  change 
in  his  intellectual  faculties — a  change  in  his  feelings — a 
chanofe  in  his  views  of  men  and  things.  If  he  be  not  a 
Christian,  the  mind  settles  down  composedly  and  firmly 
upon  the  acquisition  of  wealth,  or  honor,  or  pleasure,  or 
whatever  else  is  fixed  upon  as  the  great  leading  object  of 
life.  The  heart  becomes  harder,  and  colder,  and  more 
selfish.  The  ruling  passion  grows  and  strengthens.  The 
admonitions  of  conscience  are  less  and  less  regarded,  till  at 
length  he  is  cut  down,  and  sinks  into  the  PTave,  without 
God,  and  without  hope — lost,  and  lost  for  ever. 

Besides,  Christianity  treats  of  some  matters,  the  serious 
consideration  of  which  is  not  congenial  to  the  natural  feel- 
ings of  the  human  heart.     To  one  who  is  not  a  Christian, 


1 


1 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  17 

no  three  words  in  the  English  language  convey  more  re- 
pulsive ideas  than  Death,  Judgment,  and  Eternity. 
Whatever  may  be  his  professions — whatever  may  be  his 
philosophy — whatever  may  be  the  strength  of  his  intellect, 
there  is  a  kind  of  mysterious  meaning — a  kind  of  indistinct 
foreboding  of  evil  to  come,  connected  with  these  terms,  as 
used  in  the  Christian  religion,  at  the  serious  contemplation 
of  which  his  mind  almost  instinctively  revolts.  The  lan- 
guage of  the  heart,  if  not  of  the  lips,  is,  **  Go  thy  way  for 
this  time  ;  at  a  convenient  season,  I  will  call  for  thee." 

Such  are  some  of  the  main  reasons  why  so  few  men  of 
intellie^ence  and  influence  become  Christians. 

It  sometimes  happens,  however,  that  men  of  this  char- 
acter are  led  to  examine  the  subject  of  religion  with  a  very 
considerable  degree  of  care  and  attention.  They  become 
satisfied  of  the  general  truths  of  Christianity,  and  think  and 
speak  well  of  its  institutions,  and  entertain  a  kind  of  indefi- 
nite hope  that  all  will  be  well  with  them  in  another  world. 
They  perhaps  regularly  attend  public  worship,  and  lead 
moral  lives,  and  do  many  things.  But  there  are  parts  of 
the  Christian  religion  which  are  mysterious,  and  which  they 
do  not  comprehend.  "  Our  clergymen  tell  us — and  the 
Bible  seems  to  warrant  the  assertion — that  in  order  to  be 
happy  in  another  world,  a  man  must  be  born  again ;  must 
be  born  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  Now  I  do  not  understand 
this.  To  be  hovQi  agaiji  !  To  be  horn  of  the  Spirit  of  God  ! 
What  does  this  mean  ?     How  can  these  things  be  ?" 

o 

There  is  nothing  unnatural,  or  contrary  to  the  soundest 
principles  of  human  reason,  in  the  supposition  that  the  soul 
of  man  may  be  operated  upon  by  an  unseen  and  supernatu- 
ral power.  The  death  of  a  Marshall  can  awaken  emotions 
of  sorrow  and  reofret  in  the  bosoms  of  millions  of  his  coun- 

o 

try  men.  A  few  threatening  words  in  the  message  of  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  can  excite  the  apprehen- 


18  A  FEW  THOUGHTS 

sions,  and  concentrate  the  thoughts  of  three  of  the  most 
populous  nations  of  the  earth.  The  brief  military  order  of 
a  Napoleon,  in  the  shape  of  a  Berlin  or  Milan  decree,  can 
shake  the  very  foundations  of  civil  society,  and  change  the 
occupation,  if  not  the  destiny,  of  half  the  civilized  world. 
If  the  mind  of  man  can  be  thus  wrought  upon  by  human 
agency,  it  surely  is  not  imreasonable  to  suppose,  that  there 
may  be  such  an  intercommunication  between  man  and  his 
Maker — between  the  infinite,  eternal  Mind,  and  created 
intellect,  as  to  produce  in  the  latter  a  change,  not  inaptly 
called  a  spiritual  regeneration,  or  new  birth. 

This  difficulty  is  not  of  modern  origin.  Soon  after  the 
spirit  of  prophecy  had  ceased,  and  when  there  were  no 
inspired  persons  to  whom  the  Jews  could  apply  to  decide 
their  religious  doubts  and  settle  their  disputes,  a  body  of 
men  in  Judea  associated  themselves  together  under  the 
name  of  the  "  Pharisees" — an  association  which  existed  in 
the  time  of  our  Saviour,  and  which  embraced  most  of  the 
learned  and  influential  men  of  that  day.  Of  this  number 
was  a  certain  Nicodemus,  a  ruler  of  the  Jews,  a  man  of 
sound  judgment  and  great  acuteness  of  mind.  He  had 
watched  the  movements  of  our  Saviour  from  his  first  en- 
trance into  public  life — had  seen  him  give  sight  to  the  blind, 
cleanse  the  lepers,  make  the  dumb  to  speak,  and  raise  the 
dead.  The  possession  and  exercise  of  such  powers  satisfied 
the  cool  and  reflecting  mind  of  Nicodemus,  that  whether 
this  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  the  long-expected  Messiah  or 
not,  he  was  certainly  clothed  with  supernatural  energies, 
and  had  in  fact  been  sent  from  God  into  this  world  for  some 
important  purpose.  Nicodemus  therefore,  believing  this  to 
be  a  fit  opportunity  for  acquiring  some  satisfactory  know- 
ledge of  the  world  of  spirits,  and  the  place  and  mode  of 
our  existence  after  death,  determined  to  gratify  his  curi- 
osity, and  seek  a  private  interview  with  our  Saviour.     Ac- 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  19 

cordingly,  on  a  certain  night,  shortly  after  the  celebration 
of  the  passover  at  Jerusalem,  he  came  to  our  Saviour, 
when  the  following  conversation  took  place  : 

**  Nicodemus  saith  unto  him.  Rabbi,  we  know  that  thou 
art  a  Teacher  come  from  God :  for  no  man  can  do  these 
miracles  that  thou  doest,  except  God  be  with  him.  Jesus 
answered  and  said  unto  him.  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee, 
Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of 
God.  Nicodemus  saith  unto  him,  How  can  a  man  be  born 
when  he  is  old?  Can  he  enter  the  second  time  into  his 
mother's  womb,  and  be  born?  Jesus  answered,  Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  Except  a  man  be  born  of  water,  and 
of  the  Spirit,  he  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God. 
That  which  is  born  of  the  flesh,  is  flesh  ;  and  that  which  is 
born  of  the  Spirit,  is  spirit.  Marvel  not  that  I  said  unto 
thee,  ye  must  be  born  again.  The  wind  bloweth  where  it 
listeth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst  not 
tell  whence  it  cometh,  and  whither  it  goeth  :  so  is  every  one 
that  is  born  of  the  Spirit,  Nicodemus  answered  and  said 
unto  him.  How  can  these  things  be  ?  Jesus  answered  and  said 
unto  him.  Art  thou  a  master  of  Israel,  and  knowest  not  these 
things  ?  If  I  have  told  you  earthly  things,  and  ye  believe 
not,  how  shall  ye  believe  if  I  tell  you  of  heavenly  things  ?" 

This  conversation  was  had  more  than  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago,  and  the  question,  "How  can  these  things  be  ?" 
has  been  repeated  in  every  succeeding  age,  and  still  remains 
unanswered.  The  world  has  been  inundated  with  scholastic 
controversies  ;  theologians  have  disputed,  and  lost  their 
temper;  councils  have  decreed,  and  synods  adjudicated; 
and  after  all,  the  question  remains  precisely  where  our  Sav- 
iour left  it :  "  The  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and  thou 
hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it  com- 
eth, and  whither  it  sfoeth  :  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of 
the  Spirit." 


20  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

But  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  the  manner  of  opera- 
tion  is  one  thing,  and  the  matter  of  fact  another.  The  wind 
may  be  felt,  and  we  may  hear  the  sound  thereof,  though  we 
can  neither  tell  whence  it  cometh,  nor  whither  it  goeth.  The 
inquiry  of  the  husbandman  is,  Is  it  a  fact  that  the  earth, 
by  proper  culture,  will  bring  forth  and  bud,  and  give  seed 
to  the  sower  and  bread  to  the  eater  ?  not,  hoiu  is  the  pro- 
cess effected  ?  The  merchant  intrusts  his  fortune  upon  the 
ocean,  because  he  knows  it  to  be  a  fact  that  the  needle  is 
true  to  the  pole  ;  not  because  he  can  tell  ivhy  it  is  so.  The 
lawyer  appeals  to  the  sympathies  of  a  jury,  because  he 
knows  that  such  feelings  exist  in  the  human  breast ;  not 
because  he  can  tell  how,  or  in  what  maimer,  they  exist. 
Physicians  may  disagree  in  opinion  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  the  body  is  nourished  by  food — they  may  perplex 
each  other  with  hard  words,  and  argue  themselves  into  a 
quarrel ;  while  the  plain,  honest  countryman  eats  his  meal 
in  quietness,  and  gives  God  thanks  for  it.  So  here,  the 
proper  inquiry  is,  Is  it  a  fact  that  men  are  born  again  ? 
Is  it  a  fact  that  men  are  born  of  the  Spirit  of  God  ?  Let 
the  reader  for  a  moment  look  into  his  own  neighborhood, 
and  among  his  own  acquaintances.  There  is  an  individual, 
who,  for  some  reason  or  other,  forsakes  the  company  of  his 
former  friends  and  associates,  and  attaches  himself  to  a 
body  of  professing  Christians.  He  abandons  his  former 
evil  practices — becomes  the  friend  and  supporter  of  the 
religious  and  benevolent  institutions  of  the  day — is  honest 
and  upright  in  his  dealings,  and  apparently  at  least,  is  gov- 
erned by  right  principles  and  right  motives.  He  is  a  regu- 
lar attendant  upon  the  public  worship  of  God,  participates 
with  his  brethren  in  the  social  prayer-meeting,  and  is  regu- 
lar and  constant  in  family  and  private  devotions.  Thus  far, 
as  to  his  outward  actions ;  but  look  into  his  heart.  You 
there  find  a  thorough  conviction  of  the  evil  of  sin.     That 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  21 

in  wliicli  he  once  delifj:hted  is  now  loathsome  to  him.  He 
no  longer  hears  the  reproof  of  sin  as  words  of  course,  but 
the  mention  of  his  sin  comes  home  to  his  very  heart  and 
conscience.  He  is  convinced,  too,  of  his  own  misery  by 
reason  of  sin.  He  once  read  the  threatenings  of  God's  law, 
as  he  did  the  history  of  some  foreign  war ;  but  now  he  sees 
and  feels  that  his  own  everlasting  welfare  is  at  stake.  He 
feels,  too,  the  absolute  necessity  of  pardon.  Neither  credit, 
nor  riches,  nor  pleasures  can  heal  his  wounded  conscience. 
"Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified"  is  now  his  only  hope  of 
happiness  and  salvation.  These  are  the  real  feelings  of 
the  heart — the  genuine  convictions  of  a  man  that  thirsts ; 
and  not  merely  a  change  in  opinion  or  theory.  The  spon- 
taneous, unsophisticated  breathing  forth  of  his  soul  is,  ''  As 
the  hart  panteth  after  the  water-brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul 
after  thee,  0  God."  Now  this  man  has  been  horn  again — 
has  been  horn  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  He  may  not  be  able 
to  tell  you  the  time,  or  the  place,  or  the  manner,  or  the  or- 
der of  these  workings  of  the  Spirit ;  all  this  may  be  involved 
in  uncertainty  ;  but  in  point  oifact,  the  very  foundations  of 
his  heart  have  been  broken  up,  and  he  has  come  forth  into 
the  world  a  new  creature,  with  new  hopes  and  new  fears, 
new  joys  and  new  sorrows — an  heir  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Not  that  new  faculties  or  greater  intellectual  powers  have 
been  implanted  in  the  mind ;  but  simply,  the  great  leading 
object  of  his  pursuit  is  changed.  All  the  affections — all 
the  better  feelings  of  the  heart,  have  been  taken  away 
from  the  things  of  this  world,  and  elevated,  and  purified, 
and  fixed  upon  God.  The  great  business  of  his  life  now  is, 
to  love  and  obey  God,  and  to  do  good  to  his  fellow-men. 
He  is  as  enterprising  as  ever  in  all  his  plans ;  as  persever- 
inof  and  as  industrious  ;  but  he  no  lono-er  labors  for  himself. 
He  now  acts  for  God.  He  is  an  agent,  not  a  principal ; 
and  he  feels  and  realizes  that  he  must  one  day  render  an 

VOL.  X.  IB 


22  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

exact  account  of  his  stewardship  to  God.  Nor  is  this  an 
irksome  employment,  and  one  which  he  would  gladly 
avoid.  No  ;  it  is  his  daily  food — his  pleasure — his  delight. 
He  knows  and  feels  that  he  is  fulfilling  the  great  end  of  his 
being ;  and  in  all  his  trials,  and  in  all  his  troubles,  he  en- 
joys a  peace  of  mind,  an  inward  satisfaction,  such  as  this 
world  can  neither  give  nor  take  away,  and  with  which  a 
stranger  intermeddleth  not.  His  treasure  is  in  heaven,  and 
to  heaven  he  looks  for  a  final  resting-place,  when  the 
storms  of  this  life  shall  have  passed  away.  Such  is  the 
man  who  is  ho7'n  again — who  is  horn  of  the  Spirit  of  God. 

Nor  are  cases  of  this  kind  so  rare  in  society,  as  to  leave 
in  the  mind  a  rational  doubt  as  to  their  true  character.  In- 
stances occur  within  the  range  of  every  man's  observation ; 
and  it  seems  to  be  a  part  of  the  general  providence  of  God, 
that  in  all  places,  and  in  all  grades  of  society,  there  shall 
be  men  of  known  integrity  and  uprightness,  who  have  felt 
in  their  own  hearts  this  great  moral  change,  and  who  not 
only  with  their  lips,  but  in  their  lives,  say  to  all  about 
them,  There  is  a  reality  in  this  thing  called  the  religion  of 
the  heart. 

But  what  are  the  means  necessary  to  be  used  on  the 
part  of  man,  in  order  to  effect  this  great  change  ?  As  in 
most  other  cases  where  God  makes  provision  for  the  real 
happiness  of  his  creatures,  the  means  are  plain  and  simple. 
The  pride  of  the  heart  is  to  he  humbled.  The  prodigal  son 
must  arise,  and  go  to  his  father,  and  say  unto  him,  "  Father, 
I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  before  thee,  and  am  no 
more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son."  There  must  be  this 
humbling  of  one's  self  before  God  and  man.  From  a  bro- 
ken and  a  contrite  heart,  there  must  ascend  that  humble, 
penitential  cry,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner."  There 
must  be  this  absolute,  unqualified  giving  away  of  one's  self, 
soul  and  bodv,  mind,  might,  and  strencrth,  to  God  and  his 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  23 

service.     This  done,  and  a  man  is  born  again :  this  don'' 
and  a  man  is  a  Christian. 

There  is  yet  another  objection,  which  sometimes  em- 
bodies itself  in  hinguage  like  this  :  The  Bible  represents/ai^^ 
in  Jesus  Christ  as  alone  necessary  to  salvation.  I  have 
examined  the  evidences  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  I  do 
believe  in  Jesus  Christ.  I  believe  he  came  into  this  world, 
and  suffered,  and  died,  to  make  an  atonement  for  the  sins 
of  mankind  :  now,  what  more  is  necessary  ? 

It  is  obvious,  that  the  assent  of  the  understanding  to  any 
abstract  truth,  is  one  thing ;  and  that  such  a  belief  in  the 
same  truth,  as  to  excite  feeling  and  action,  is  quite  another 
thing.  The  philosopher  in  his  closet,  may  demonstrate  and 
fully  believe  the  truth  of  some  mathematical  principle  ap- 
plicable to  the  science  of  navigation ;  but  who  does  not  see 
the  diff'erence  between  his  faith  and  the  faith  of  the  ship- 
master, who,  amidst  the  perils  of  the  ocean,  is  constantly 
reducing  the  same  principle  to  actual  practice,  and  thus 
brings  the  ship  and  her  crew  home  in  safety  ?  The  princi- 
ple is  all  the  while  the  same ;  but  in  the  one  case  it  is  ab- 
stract and  merely  intellectual,  while  in  the  other  it  is  used, 
practised  upon,  and  felt  to  be  true.  The  latter  illustrates 
the  faith  of  the  Gospel ;  one  of  the  fruits,  or  rather  a  con- 
stituent part  of  spiritual  regeneration. 

A  father  and  his  son,  late  in  the  day,  come  to  the  banks 
of  a  stream  swollen. by  a  heavy  rain.  The  fears  of  the  boy 
are  excited.  Night  is  at  hand.  Thoughts  of  home  rush 
into  his  mind.  He  casts  an  anxious  look,  first  upon  the 
dark  and  rapid  stream,  and  then  upon  his  father's  face.  At 
length  the  father  says  to  him.  The  stream  is  too  deep  for 
you,  my  son.  I  must  carry  you  in  my  arms.  Be  not  afraid. 
I  have  crossed  the  stream  before.  Hold  fast  to  your  father, 
and  we  shall  soon  be  safe  at  home.  Now,  as  the  son  silent- 
ly clasps  his  arms  around  the  neck  of  his  kind  and  affection- 


24  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

ate  father,  is  there  on  his  part  nothing  more  than  the  mere 
assent  of  the  understanding — nothing  more  than  a  simple, 
cold  belief,  that  the  father  has  bone  and  muscle  sufficient 
to  carry  him  safely  across  the  stream  ?  Far  from  it.  His 
heart  is  overflowing  with  that  sincere  affection,  that  warm 
and  filial  confidence,  which  great  waters  cannot  quench, 
nor  floods  drown ;  and  as  they  approach  the  middle  of  the 
stream,  and  he  feels  the  waters  rising  upon  him,  he  clings 
the  closer  to  his  father's  bosom,  and  soon  is  carried  beyond 
the  reach  of  danger,  and  safely  arrives  at  home. '  So,  too, 
with  the  Christian.  The  days  of  his  pilgrimage  draw  to  a 
close,  and  he  approaches  the  cold  stream  of  death,  which 
all  must  pass.  He  looks  upon  the  dark  and  turbid  waters 
with  fear  and  apprehension.  But  soon  he  hears  the  cheer- 
ing language,  "  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled — Put  your 
trust  in  me — Fear  not — I  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake 
thee."  Nor  are  these  mere  unmeaning  words.  No.  They 
lie  as  a  cordial  at  his  heart ;  and  as  he  sinks  into  the  stream, 
and  its  waters  close  over  him,  he  feels  beneath  him  the  ev- 
erlasting arms  of  his  heavenly  Father,  and  is  soon  carried 
to  those  mansions  of  rest  which  remain  for  the  people  of 
God. 

A  day  is  appointed  by  law  for  the  session  of  the  supreme 
judicial  tribunal — a  court  of  the  last  resort.  Among  other 
matters  waiting  a  trial,  is  the  cause  of  a  plain,  ignorant  man, 
occupying  a  small  tract  of  land  left  him  by  his  father,  and 
from  the  cultivation  of  which,  by  the  use  of  great  economy, 
he  obtains  a  scanty  liv^elihood.  This  little  tract  of  land 
adjoins  the  possessions  of  a  rich,  and  powerful,  and  avari- 
cious neighbor,  who  having  discovered  some  supposed  de- 
fect in  the  title,  has  commenced  a  legal  prosecution  to 
recover  the  possession,  and  the  cause  now  stands  for  final 
hearino'  at  the  head  of  the  trial  docket  in  the  court  of  the 
last  resort.     Now,  the  citizens  generally,  in  common  with 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  25 

this  poor  man,  believe  that  this  court  will  sit.  They  have 
read  it  in  the  statutes,  or  newspapers,  or  it  is  so  understood 
in  the  neighborhood.  A  large  proportion  of  the  people, 
however,  feel  little  or  no  interest  in  the  matter,  and  give 
themselves  no  trouble  about  it.  It  is  true,  they  fully  believe 
the  court  will  sit ;  but  with  them  all  is  well,  and  they  go 
in  peace  and  quietness  about  their  ordinary  vocations ;  one 
to  his  farm,  and  another  to  his  merchandise.  Not  so,  how- 
ever, with  the  man  who  feels  that  his  little  all  is  at  stake. 
Many  a  day  you  will  see  him  laboring  in  his  fields  with  a 
sad  and  heavy  heart.  He  is  sowing,  but  he  knows  not  who 
may  reap.  His  little  inheritance,  which  has  hitherto  fur- 
nished him  and  his  children  with  food  and  raiment,  may 
pass  into  other  hands.  His  thoughts  are  continually  recur- 
ring to  the  day  of  trial.  He  talks  of  it  with  his  neighbors 
and  friends.  All  his  plans,  all  his  domestic  concerns,  are 
arranged  in  reference  to  it.  To  him  it  is  a  day  above  all 
other  days.  His  counsel  advise  him  to  be  on  his  guard,  to 
be  constantly  preparing  for  his  defence ;  that  he  has  a  subtle 
and  powerful  adversary ;  that  the  contest  will  be  a  severe 
one,  and  that  without  constant  watchfulness  he  will  be 
overcome.  At  length  the  day  arrives,  the  cause  is  opened, 
the  testimony  is  heard,  the  opinion  of  the  court  is  pro- 
nounced, and  the  sentence  of  the  law  recorded,  "  That  the 
defendant  go  hence  without  day."  The  poor  man  goes 
home  with  a  heart  full  of  joy,  and  spends  the  residue  of  his 
days  in  peace  and  happiness  upon  his  little  patrimony,  en- 
deared to  him  a  thousand-fold  by  the  trials  and  troubles  it 
has  cost  him. 

So,  too,  the  Christian.  God  has  appointed  a  day  in 
which  he  will  judge  the  world  in  righteousness  ;  when  the 
secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  open,  and  every  man  shall 
be  rewarded  or  punished  according  to  the  deeds  done  in 

the  body.     This,  too,  is  a  matter  of  public  notoriety.     It  is 
VOL.  X.  18* 


26  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

promulgated  in  the  Bible,  the  statutes  of  God's  kingdom, 
from  the  pulpit,  by  missionaries,  by  Sunday-schools,  by 
prayer-books,  by  Tracts,  and  in  a  thousand  other  forms. 
And  even  in  our  courts  of  justice,  we  daily  and  hourly  wit- 
ness the  appeal  made  to  the  ''  Searcher  of  all  hearts,"  for 
the  truth,  as  it  shall  be  answered  for  at  the  same  "  great 
day."  The  fact,  too,  is  believed  by  a  great  proportion  of 
mankind.  Indeed,  few  men  express  any  serious  doubts 
upon  the  matter.  But,  like  the  session  of  the  supreme 
judicial  tribunal,  the  great  mass  of  mankind  feel  little  or  no 
interest  in  it.  It  is  yet  a  great  way  off.  They  have  not 
time  to  think  of  it.  They  must  make  provision  for  their 
families.  The  Judge,  too,  is  a  merciful  being,  and  they 
hope  all  will  be  well  with  them.  Besides,  religion  is  a  ra- 
tional thing.  "  The  best  of  Beings  did  not  send  us  into  the 
world  to  go  weeping  through  it ;  nor  will  he  call  us  to  a 
severe  reckoning  because  we  have  snatched  at  some  of  its 
fugacious  pleasures."  Not  so,  however,  with  the  real  Chris- 
tian. In  the  book  of  God's  law — and  which  is  to  form  the 
rule  of  final  judgment — he  finds  language  like  this : 

"  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate ;  for  many  will 
seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall  not  be  able.  Whatsoever  thy 
hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might ;  for  there  is  no 
Avork,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom,  in  the  grave, 
whither  thou  goest.  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with 
fear  and  trembling.  Give  diligence  to  make  your  calling 
and  election  sure.  If  the  righteous  scarcely  be  saved, 
where  shall  the  ungodly  and  the  sinner  appear?" 

He  not  only  believes,  but  he  feels,  that  the  well-being  of 
his  immortal  soul,  throughout  the  ages  of  eternity,  will 
depend  upon  the  decision  of  that  great  day ;  and  he  acts 
accordingly.  It  occupies  his  thoughts — enters  into  all  his 
arrangements.  His  family  and  neighbors  all  bear  witness 
of  his  care  and  watchfulness.     In  short,  he  makes  it  the 


A  FEW  THOUGHTS.  27 

great  business  of  his  life  to  prepare  to  meet  that  searching 
glance  of  the  eye  of  Omniscience,  which  he  knows  will 
penetrate  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  soul.  He,  too,  has  his 
troubles  and  his  trials,  his  doubts  and  his  fears.  He,  too, 
has  a  subtle  and  a  powerful  adversary,  who  is  continually 
seekinor  his  destruction.  "Without  are  fio:htino:s — within 
are  fears ;"  and  oftentimes  there  bursts  forth  from  his  trou- 
bled heart  the  involuntary  cry,  "  0  wretched  man  that  I 
am!  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death?" 
But  he,  too,  has  an  Advocate ;  his  name  is  "  Wonderful, 
Counsellor,  the  Mighty  God,  the  everlasting  Father,  the 
Prince  of  peace."  His  language  is,  "  Son,  be  of  good 
cheer.  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you, 
and  learn  of  me ;  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart ;  and 
ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls.  For  my  yoke  is  easy, 
and  my  burden  is  light."  And  when  the  great  and  notable 
day  of  the  Lord  shall  come ;  when  the  Son  of  man  shall  sit 
upon  the  throne  of  his  glory,  and  the  assembled  universe 
shall  stand  up  in  final  judgment  before  him,  there  will  fall 
upon  his  ear  in  the  same  kind  accents,  "  Come,  ye  blessed 
of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world:"  and  then  with  all  those  who 
have  come  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  have  washed  their 
robes  and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  with 
joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,  he  enters  upon  an  inher- 
itance incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not  away, 
eternal  in  the  heavens.      Who  ivould  riot  be  a  Christian  ? 

Say  not,  then,  that  there  is  want  of  evidence,  or  want 
of  ability.  "  If  any  man  will  do  my  will,  he  shall  know  my 
doctrine,"  No  earnest,  hiunhle  inquirer  ever  yet  failed  in 
the  search.  If  you  will  believe  with  the  heart  what  the 
mind  knows  to  be  true,  and  will  faithfully  act  after  the  con- 
victions of  conscience ;  if  you  will  unite  the  affections  and 


28  A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

the  will,  with  all  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  in  doinc  what 
you  know  and  feel  to  be  right,  the  way  of  truth  Avill  open 
broad  before  you,  and  you  will  find  that  all  her  ways  are 
ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths  are  peace. 


Nature  with  open  volume  stands, 
To  spread  her  Maker's  praise  abroad, 
And  every  labor  of  his  hands 
Shows  something  worthy  of  a  God. 

But  in  the  grace  that  rescued  man, 
His  brightest  form  of  glory  shines ; 
Here,  on  the  cross,  'tis  fairest  drawn, 
In  precious  blood  and  crimson  lines. 

Here  I  behold  his  inmost  heart, 
Where  grace  and  vengeance  strangely  join  ; 
Piercing  his  Son  with  sharpest  smart. 
To  make  the  purchased  pleasures  mine. 

0,  the  sweet  wonders  of  that  cross, 
Where  God  the  Saviour  loved  and  died  ; 
Her  noblest  life  my  spirit  draws 
From  his  dear  wounds  and  bleeding  side. 

I  would  forever  speak  his  name, 

In  sounds  to  mortal  ears  unknown ; 

With  angels  join  to  praise  the  Lamb, 

And  worsliip  at  his  Father's  throne.  vvatts. 


]¥o.  376. 

THE 


INFIDEL'S  CREED; 


OR, 


THE  CREDULITY  OF  INFIDELITY. 

FROM  LETTERS  ON  CHRISTIANITY. 


BY  OLINTHUS  GREGORY,  LL.D. 


We  cannot  suppose  the  advocates  of  Infidelity,  as  idol- 
izers  of  reason,  to  reject  the  Christian  rehgion,  and  adopt 
the  notions  of  Deism,  without  thinking  they  have  found 
sufficient  reasons  for  the  preference.  Let  us,  my  friend, 
by  instituting  a  short  comparison,  see  if  we  can  discover 
them.  Can  a  Deist  arrive  at  his  convictions  by  any  thing 
like  the  following  gradation  ? 

Christianity  reveals  a  God,  glorious  in  holiness  :  deism, 
though  it  acknowledges  a  God,  yet  in  a  great  measure 
OA'erlooks  his  moral  character;  therefore  I  prefer  deism. 
Christianity  contains  a  professed  revelation  of  the  will  of 
God :  deism  leaves  me  in  perfect  darkness  as  to  his  will ; 
therefore  I  prefer  deism.  Christianity  exhibits  palpable, 
obvious,  and  simple  marks  of  the  nature  of  virtue  and  vice : 
deism  envelopes  the  nature  of  virtue  and  vice  in  the  great- 
est doubt  and  perplexity  ;  therefore  I  prefer  deism.  Chris- 
tianity furnishes  the  strongest  possible  motives  for  virtuous 
conduct,  and  the  most  cogent  reasons  for  abstaining  from 
vicious  conduct :  deism   appeals  only  to  some  vague  no- 


2  THE  INFIDEL'S  CREED. 

tions  relative  to  the  fitness  of  things,  or  to  moral  beauty, 
or  to  expediency,  which  makes  a  man's  own  sentiments 
and  feelings,  however  fluctuating,  his  ultimate  guide ; 
therefore  1  prefer  deism.  Christianity  o/^m  reforms  profli- 
gate and  vicious  men :  deism  never ;  therefore  I  prefer 
deism.  Christianit}^  frequently  prompts  men  to  schemes 
of  the  most  extensive  philanthropy,  and  compels  them  to 
execute  those  schemes :  deism  scarcely  ever  devises  any 
such  schemes ;  therefore  I  prefer  deism.  Christianity 
imparts  principles  that  support  men  under  all  the  trials 
and  vicissitudes  of  life  :  deism  can  have  recourse  to  no 
such  principles ;  therefore  I  prefer  deism.  Christianity 
assures  me  of  eternal  existence  beyond  the  grave ;  and 
that,  if  it  is  not  to  me  an  eternal  portion  of  felicity,  it  will 
be  my  own  fault :  deism  leaves  me  perfectly  ignorant,  let 
my  conduct  here  be  what  it  may,  whether  I  shall  live  be- 
yond the  grave  or  not — whether  such  existence,  if  there 
be  any,  will  be  limited  or  infinite,  happy  or  miserable  ; 
therefore  I  prefer  deism.  Christianity  will  support  me 
under  the  languishments  of  a  sick-bed,  and  in  the  prospect 
of  death,  with  the  ''sure  and  certain  hope,"  that  death  is 
only  a  short,  though  dark  passage  into  an  "inheritance 
incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  which  fadeth  not  away,  re- 
served in  heaven  for  God's  people  :"  deism  will  then  leave 
me  sinking  in  an  ocean  of  gloomy  apprehensions,  without 
one  support — in  trembling  expectation  that  the  icy  hand 
of  the  king  of  terrors  is  about  to  seize  me  ;  but  whether 
to  convey  me  to  heaven,  to  hell,  or  to  a  state  of  annihila- 
tion, I  know  not ;  therefore  I  prefer :  no,  my  friend, 

it  is  impossible  that  any  man  capable  of  correct  reflection 
can,  after  tracing  this  contrast,  say,  deliberately  and  sin- 
cerely, therefore  I  prefer  deism. 


THE  INFIDEL'S  CREED.  3 

The  reasons,  then,  which  weigh  with  a  Deist,  must  be 
different  from  the  above.  Perhaps  you  may  be  told,  that 
the  difficulties  attending  the  belief  of  Christianity  are  very 
numerous  and  great ;  while  the  mere  reception  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  deism  is,  in  a  considerable  degree,  free  from  diffi- 
culty, or  at  least  presents  no  difficulties  against  which  one's 
mind  can  strenuously  revolt.  To  ascertain  the  force  of 
this  assertion,  let  us  endeavor  to  collect  into  one  point  of 
view  the  chief  propositions  which  must  necessarily  be  in- 
cluded in  the  creed  of  a  Deist ;  and  I  am  much  mistaken, 
if  they  will  not  furnish  us  with  some  cogent  motives  for 
wishing  Christianity  may  be  true,  independent  of  all  those 
that  result  from  its  own  intrinsic  beauty,  value,  and  excel- 
lency. 

Here,  again,  we  will  suppose  a  Deist  speaking ;  deliv- 
ering, if  I  may  so  call  it,  "  A  confession  of  his  faith  "  in 
his  own  person.  And  after  you  have  attended  to  his  dec- 
laration, I  think  you  will  coincide  with  me  in  opinion,  that 
the  credulity  of  zinhelievers  is  the  most  marvellous  thing 
imaginable — that  the  rejecters  of  the  Gospel  are  the  most 
resolute  believers  in  the  world  ;  or  with  Soame  Jenyns, 
that  they  "  must  be  possessed  of  much  more  faith  than  is 
necessary  to  make  them  declared  Christians,  and  remain 
unbelievers  from  mere  credulity."  The  creed  of  a  Deist, 
so  far  as  I  am  able  to  comprehend  his  principles,  would 
run  thus : 

1.  I  believe  that  God  is  a  being  of  matchless  holiness, 
wisdom,  power,  and  benevolence ;  that  in  consequence  of 
his  holiness,  he  "  cannot  look  upon  iniquity  with  satisfac- 
tion ;"  that  his  wisdom  would  enable  him  to  contrive,  his 
power  to  execute,  and  his  benevolence  stimulate  him  to 
accomplish  the  most  effectual  plans  for  the  establishment 


4  THE  INFIDEL'S  CREED. 

of  virtue  and  the  suppression  of  vice — for  the  extinction  of 
mental  and  moral  darkness,  and  the  diffusion  of  mental  and 
moral  light ;  and  yet,  that  God  has  suffered  mankind  in 
every  age,  and  in  almost  every  country,  to  remain  in  the 
grossest  ignorance  and  darkness  for  nearly  6,000  years — to 
struggle  with  prejudices,  to  immerse  themselves  in  the 
blackest  and  most  dismal  crimes,  to  perform  the  most  hor- 
rid and  murderous  rites,  and  fancy  them  religious  services ; 
that  he  makes  the  being  who  possesses  the  finest  faculties, 
to  be  the  greatest  enemy  to  his  species,  and  thus  to  plunge 
himself  and  others  into  the  deepest  miseries :  and  all  this 
in  consequence  of  his  never  affording  them  the  remotest 
aid — never  supplying  them  with  any  invariable  principles 
as  preservatives  against  error,  or  any  specific  rules  by 
which  they  should  shape  their  conduct.  That  is,  I  believe 
this  palpable  contradiction,  that  the  goodness  of  God  has 
allowed  this  horridly  miserable  state  of  mankind  to  continue 
for  so  many  centuries,  and  has  all  along  prompted  him  to 
refuse  them  any  effectual  aid  or  direction. 

2.  I  believe  that  what  is  called  the  Mosaic  account  of 
the  creation  of  the  world  and  the  fall  of  man,  is  a  mere 
fable ;  and  therefore  I  believe  that  God,  the  wisest  and  the 
best  of  beings,  created  man  with  the  most  noble,  refined, 
and  extraordinary  faculties  of  body  and  mind — faculties 
infinitely  superior  to  what  are  possessed  by  other  living 
creatures ;  that  while  they  eat,  and  drink,  and  sleep,  uncon- 
scious of  what  shall  befall  them,  he  may  indulge  the  doubt- 
ful anticipation,  intermingled  with  frequent  dread  of  future 
occurrences  ;  and  that  while  they  are  supplied  with  all  that 
is  necessary  for  their  subsistence,  without  either  "  toiling 
or  spinning,"  man,  the  lord  of  the  creation,  is  so  circum- 
stanced, that,  "  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow,"  the  labor  of  his 


THE  INFIDEL'S  CREED.  5 

hands,  and  the  anxiety  of  his  mind,  he  shall  earn  and  "  eat 
bread :"  I  also  believe  that  the  same  infinitely  wise  and 
benevolent  Being  formed  woman  with  delicacy  of  percep- 
tion, sweetness  of  disposition,  tenderness  of  heart,  and 
beauty  of  frame,  far  above  all  we  could  conceive,  did  we 
not  witness  them,  in  order  that  "  her  sorrow  shall  be  greatly 
multiphed,"  that  **she  shall  bring  forth  children  in  sorrow  ;" 
and  that  she  shall  be  formed  exquisitely  susceptible  of  all 
the  emotions  of  love,  in  order  that  "  her  desire  may  be  to 
her  husband,  and  that  he  may  rule  over  her."  That  is,  I 
will  not  believe  that  these  are  the  effects  of  just  punish- 
ment, but  will  believe  that  they  are  marks  of  hard  treat- 
ment from  the  wisest  and  best  of  Beings  towards  the  most 
exalted  part  of  his  visible  creation.  I  know  there  is  no 
possible  medium  between  these  alternatives;  but  I  reject 
the  former,  because  it  is  reasonable,  and  revealed  in  the 
Bible  ;  and  adopt  the  latter,  because  it  is  unreasonable,  and 
revealed  nowhere. 

3.  I  believe  that  the  book  called  the  Bible  was,  every 
word  of  it,  invented  and  written  by  men  who  had  no  help 
from  God  :  that  what  are  called  prophecies  were  not  such ; 
that  what  are  denominated  miracles  were  either  tricks  of 
art,  or  never  occurred ;  and  that  though  the  precepts  are 
often  admirable,  and  the  morahty  pure,  it  proceeded  from 
impostors,  and  not  from  God.  The  whole  book  being  a 
collection  of  delusions  and  deceptions,  which  God  never- 
theless suffered  to  be  accompanied  by  such  evidence  to 
gain  it  belief,  as  is  not  possessed  by  any  other  book. 

4.  I  believe  that  bad  men  are  often  made  better  through 
the  influence  of  this  strange  system  of  lies,  delusions,  and 
impostures ;  and  that  those  who  were  good  men,  often  be- 
come bad  as  soon  as  they  are  wise  enough  to  free  them- 

VOL.  X.  19 


Q  THE  INFIDEL'S  CREED. 

selves  from  sucli  influence,  and  to  cast  off  the  shackles  with 
which  this  system  encumbered  them. 

5.  I  believe  that  several  of  the  best  scholars,  the  ablest 
disputants,  the  most  acute  lawyers,  the  subtlest  metaphy- 
sicians, the  most  cautious  investigators,  and  the  most  pro- 
found philosophers  that  ever  lived,  such  as  Sir  Thomas 
More,  Grotius,  Hale,  Bacon,  Barrow,  Locke,  Hartley, 
Boyle,  Pascal,  Euler,  Newton,  and  many  others,  were 
never  able  to  detect  the  cheat,  but  lived  as  much  under 
the  influence  of  this  system  of  blood  and  blasphemous  de- 
ception, as  the  most  vulgar  and  illiterate  peasant  could 
do  ;  and  were,  the  majority  of  them,  very  excellent  men 
notwithstanding. 

6.  I  believe  that  the  different  persons  who  employed 
themselves  at  various  times,  and  in  different  places,  to 
compose  the  Bible,  which  avows  itself  by  a  thousand  most 
solemn  and  explicit  declarations,  to  be  a  collection  of  com- 
munications from  heaven,  were  not  madmen — for  that  sup- 
position is  untenable — but  all  shocking  liars,  and  deceivers  ; 
that  these  wicked  men,  who  thus  impiously  pretended  to 
be  employed  by  God,  when  they  were  not  so  employed, 
did,  notwithstanding,  with  an  amazing  energy,  resolution, 
and  perseverance,  go  about  doing  good,  and  delivering  the 
most  important  moral  precepts — braving  and  often  sustain- 
ing the  greatest  present  evils ;  not  one  of  them  ever  re- 
canting or  discovering  the  fraud,  but  supporting  them- 
selves in  the  daily  diffusion  of  their  noble  precepts  and 
detestable  impostures,  and  the  terrible  sufferings  which 
they  thereby  had  to  sustain,  by  the  conviction  that  they 
had  no  hope  but  of  experiencing  further  hardships  here, 
and  the  vengeance  of  the  God  whom  they  had  insulted 
hereafter. 


THE  INFIDEL'S  CREED.  7 

Lastly,  I  believe  that  the  great  Being  of  infinite  perfec- 
tions, who  sits  enthroned  at  the  head  of  the  universe,  has 
seen  this  horrid  delusion  prevail  more  and  more  for  nearly 
two  thousand  years ;  and  yet,  instead  of  interposing  to 
stay  its  progress,  has  suffered  it  to  be  accompanied  with 
the  most  remarkable  apparent  sanctions,  and  has  often 
accelerated  its  promulgation  by  surprising  operations  and 
occurrences.  That  is,  I  believe  that  the  God  of  truth  has, 
with  regard  to  what  is  called  the  Christian  religion,  most 
astonishingly  aided  imposture.  All  this,  I  acknowledge,  is 
perfectly  incomprehensible,  and  totally  irreconcilable  with 
the  obvious  attributes  of  deity  ;  but  it  is  consistent  with 
the  principles  of  deism,  however  repugnant  it  may  be  to 
common- sense,  and  therefore  I  believe  it. 

If  these  and  similar  absurdities,  my  friend,  result  from 
the  rejection  of  revelation — and  as  far  as  I  am  able  to 
judge,  they  are  not  merely  fair,  but  necessary  consequences 
of  such  rejection — your  deistical  acquaintances  cannot  have 
so  much  reason  as  they  suppose  to  pride  themselves  on 
that  noble  exercise  of  their  understanding  which  has  freed 
them  from  vulgar  prejudices  and  sordid  restraints.  Is 
there  not,  hence,  too  much  reason  to  fear,  that  in  nineteen 
instances  out  of  twenty,  deism  springs  more  from  the  state 
of  the  heart,  than  from  the  operations  of  intellect ;  and 
that  it  is  not  so  much  because  Christianity  offends  the  rea- 
son, as  because  it  condemns  the  conduct  of  men,  that  they 
affect  to  despise  it  ?  They  commence  their  progress  with 
a  carelessness  respecting  their  future  interests  ;  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Young,  they 

"Give  to  time  eternity's  regard, 


And,  dreaming,  take  their  passage  for  their  port." 


g  THE  INFIDEL'S  CREED. 

Gliding  along  thus  carelessly,  it  is  natural  enough  that 
they  should  sink,  first  into  error,  next  into  vice.  In  such 
a  situation,  an  inquiry  into  the  evidences  of  revealed  relig- 
ion is  not  instituted  under  very  favorable  auspices  ;  for  the 
inquirer  has  his  mind  overgrown  with  the  worst  of  all 
prejudices,  those  that  are  rooted  in  interest.  How  should 
a  man  be  indifferent  as  to  the  truth  of  a  system,  which,  if 
true,  must  condemn  him  ?  Though  his  life  may  not  be 
grossly  immoral,  he  knows  that  the  tenor  of  his  conduct 
is  incompatible  with  the  renunciations  and  requirements 
of  real  religion.  He  comes,  therefore,  to  the  trial,  not  as 
an  impartial  judge,  but  as  a  party  deeply  interested  in  the 
issue.  He,  in  consequence,  wishes  that  Christianity  may 
not  be  true  ;  and  Avhat  a  man  fervently  wishes,  he  can  easily 
persuade  himself  to  believe,  though  he  should  involve 
himself  in  a  thousand  absurdities  in  consequence  of  that 
persuasion. 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN   TRACT    SOCIETY. 


]¥o.  377. 

FIFTY    REASONS 


FOR 


ATTENDING  PUBLIC  WORSHIP. 


1.  God,  your  Creator,  Preserver,  and  Benefactor,  is 
worthy  of  your  worship. 

2.  God  says,  ''Bring  an  offering  and  come  itito  his 
courts ;  0  worship  the  Lord  in  the  beauty  of  hoHness." 
"  Not  forsaking  the  assembhng  of  yourselves  together." 

3.  God's  command,  "Remember  the  Sabbath-day  to 
keep  it  holy,"  includes  this  as  part  of  a  proper  keeping  of 
the  Sabbath. 

4.  God  proposes,  through  the  public  preaching  of  the 
Gospel,  "to  ^ave  them  that  believe;"  therefore,  come  to 
the  sanctuary,  and  hear  it. 

5.  Consider  the  condescension  of  God,  that  he  will 
receive  the  worship  of  a  sinful  creature  like  yourself;  and 
do  not  so  ungratefully  requite  him  as  to  refuse  the  perform- 
ance of  this  duty. 

6.  Public  worship  is  ?i  privilege  too  great  to  lose. 

I.  It  is  necessary  to  you,  as  an  immortal,  but  sinful  being ; 
to  your  preparation  now,  to  glorify  and  enjoy  God  in  eter- 
nity. 

8.  The  sanctuary  is  the  place,  and  the  Sabbath  the  time, 
to  get  that  knowledge  which  "giveth  life  unto  the  soul." 

9.  You  profess  to  seek  happiness ;  seek  that  which  is 
rich,  real,  and  eternal,  through  the  right  use  of  the  privi- 
leges of  the  sanctuary. 

10.  Jesus  Christ,  his  apostles,  the  prophets,  and  good 
men  in  all  ages,  have  given  you  an  example  of  this  practice. 

II,  Christ  has  purchased  for  you  the  privileges  of  pub- 
lic worship  at  an  infinite  price — his  own  "precious  blood." 

12.  Are  you  at  the  head  of  a  family  ?  And  do  you  re- 
gard your  influence  on  them  ?    Be  faithful  in  this  duty. 

13.  Are  you  in  early  life  ?  You  owe  it  to  God,  to  your 
companions,  and  to  your  own  soul,  to  live  in  this  habit. 

14.  Self-respect,  regard  for  your  own  character  in  the 
estimation  of  all  virtuous  and  Christian  men,  should  lead 
you  to  practise  this  duty. 

VOL.  X.  19* 


FIFTY  REASONS 


15.  Habits  of  church-going  are  a  strong  and  salutary- 
bond  of  influence  on  civil  society,  which  you  should  promote. 

16.  They  humanize  and  refine  men  by  the  very  neatness, 
cleanliness,  frugality,  good  order,  decency,  and  respecta- 
bility of  deportment  which  they^  promote. 

17.  They  also  promote  good  morals,  personal  comfort, 
and  correct  sentiments  on  all  subjects,  social  and  civil,  as 
well  as  moral  and  religious. 

18.  Preaching,  prayer,  and  sacred  music,  tend  to  subdue 
the  ruder  feelinq-s,  awaken  humane  and  tender  associations, 
suppress  the  violent  passions,  and  promote  in  a  man  s  char- 
acter the  things  which  are  lovely,  and  of  good  report. 

19.  The  more  you  attend  on  public  worship,  with  a 
proper  spirit,  the  more  you  will  love  to  do  it. 

20.  You  will  grow  in  tenderness  of  conscience,  be  with- 
drawn from  temptations  to  violate  the  Sabbath  by  worldly 
business,  improper  reading,  vain  thoughts  and  conversation, 
and  frequenting  places  of  idle  and  vicious  resort. 

21.  You  will  have  increased  reverence  for  God,  that 
grand  regulating  principle  of  character. 

22.  By  habitual  and  serious  attendance  on  the  public 
worship  of  God,  you  will  encourage  ministers  of  the  Gos- 
pel, and  all  other  good  men,  in  their  efforts  to  be  useful. 

23.  The  prevalence  of  habits  of  attendance  on  public 
worship,  among  all  the  people  of  this  country,  would  be 
one  of  the  best  features  of  our  national  character,  and  one 
of  the  surest  guarantees  for  our  national  safety  and  prosperity. 

24.  Whatever,  then,  your  station,  private  citizen  or  ruler, 
constituent  or  legislator,  you  ought  to  honor  God  and  seek 
the  public  good,  by  maintaining  public  luorship.     And, 

25.  Consider  this  seriously,  that  as  far  as  you  under- 
value and  neglect  this  means  of  public  benefit,  so  far  you 
contribute  your  example  and  influence  towards  injuring  the 
moral  character  and  interests  of  your  country. 

26.  God  has  highly  honored  public  Avorship  in  past 
ages,  as  the  grand  means  of  sustaining  Christianity,  and  all 
else  which  is  good  in  this  world.     Therefore, 

27.  If  you  undervalue  and  neglect  it,  you  practically 
deny  God's  wisdom  in  appointing  it,  and  thus  commit  a 
high  offence  against  him. 

Other  EVIL  things  you  do,  and  will  do,  by  neglecting 
public  worship  ;  we  mention  a  few  of  them. 


FOR  ATTENDING  PUBLIC  WORSHU'.  3 

28.  You  show  yourself  to  be  far  from  God,  holiness, 
and  hope  of  heaven. 

29.  You  cut  yourself  loose  from  many  salutary  re- 
straints, and  lay  yourself  open  to  the  temptations  of  the 
devil  and  your  own  sinful  heart,  to  go  astray  from  God  and 
to  destruction. 

30.  You  will  probably  neglect  the  Bible,  prayer,  serious 
meditation,  and  preparation  for  death  and  eternity. 

31.  You  will  dislike  and  shun  the  society  of  Christians. 

32.  You  will  increasingly  dislike,yea,  /m^e  public  worship. 

33.  You  will  try  to  disbelieve  in  and  neglect  all  religion. 

34.  You  will  grieve  and  quench  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
shut  him  from  your  soul  as  a  Renewer  and  Sanctitier. 

35.  You  will  separate  yourself  from  two  of  the  most 
powerful  means  of  good  influence  on  your  conscience  and 
manner  of  life — prayer  and  preaching. 

36.  You  will  probably  violate  the  Sabbath  by  business, 
labor,  travelling;  or  by  pleasure-seeking,  visiting,  hunting, 
fishing,  vicious  company,  drinking,  and  like  things  ;  in  short, 
if  the  devil  finds  you  neglecting  the  service  of  God,  he  will 
certainly  decoy  you  into  his  oivn. 

37.  Being  in  a  Christian  country,  but  neglecting  Chris- 
tian worship,  you  will  make  yourself  a  more  absurd  character 
than  the  very  heathen  ;  for  they  profess  to  worship  some  god 
or  gods,  but  you  worship  no  God,  true  or  false.    Of  course, 

38.  You  forfeit  your  claim  to  be  considered  even  ^nom- 
inal, much  more  a  real  Christian. 

39.  You  place  yourself  among  those  most  thoughtless 
of  God,  and  fearless  of  the  scenes  of  a  coming  eternity. 

40.  You  help  to  promote  practical  atheism,  and  to  curse 
the  world  with  irreligion.     Particularly, 

41.  You  contribute  your  example  and  influence  towards 
heathenizing  your  family,  neighborhood,  town,  district,  state, 
and  country  at  large. 

42.  You  show  yourself  capable  of  the  most  base  ingrati- 
tude to  a  merciful  God,  in  return  for  one  of  his  kindest  and 
richest  provisions  for  your  good,  temporal  and  eternal. 

43.  You  slight  and  throw  away  privileges,  for  want  of 
which,  millions  perish,  and  for  your  doing  which,  they  will 
**rise  up  in  the  judgment  and  condemn"  you.     And  here, 

44.  Remember,  that  for  neglecting  this  solemn  duty  and 
precious  privilege,  "  God  loill  bring  thee  into  judgment^ 


4  FIFTY  REASONS,  ETC. 

45.  And  in  eternity,  you  will  mourn  and  weep,  and  curse 
yourself  at  the  recollection  of  your  Sabbaths  and  sanctuary 
privileges  here  slighted,  despised,  thrown  away. 

46.  If  there  is  any  thing  which,  as  a  decent  member  of 
society,  you  should  avoid,  it  is  roaming  about  from  one  place 
of  worship  to  another.  Belong  to  some  one  congregation : 
be  not  a  hanger-on  upon  half  a  dozen.     Also, 

47.  If  the  Gospel  is  worth  your  hearing  one  Sabbath,  it 
is  worth  your  hearing  everg  Sabbath. 

48.  If  a  holy  God  is  worthy  of  your  worship  one  Sab- 
bath, he  is  Avorthy  of  it  everg  Sabbath. 

49.  An  itnsteadg  and  infrequent  attendance  on  public  wor- 
ship is  little  better  than  none  ;  for  there  is  no  regular  recur- 
rence of  religious  ordinances  steadily  to  counteract  the  temp- 
tations and  unholy  influences  which  surround  you,  and  the 
sinful  propensities  within  you.  You  thus  lose  ground,  in  all 
moral  and  spiritual  respects,  faster  than  you  gain  it. 

50.  By  such  an  attendance,  you  expose  yourself  to  the 
mortification  of  its  being  noticed  as  a  new  or  strange  thing 
when  you  do  attend.  Better  be  in  such  habits,  that  your  absence 
shall  be  noticed  as  the  strange  thing,  rather  than  your prese7ice. 

Have  you  certain  luise  reasons,  or  excuses,  many  years 
old,  for  not  attending  public  worship  ?    All  we  will  say  is, 

51.  Put  to  yourself  one  question — enough  to  silence  the 
whole  of  them :   "  Will  this  answer  my  purpose  before  the 

JUDGMENT-SEAT  OF   ChRIST,"   '^AT  THE  LAST  DAY?"     AlsO, 

52.  Be  well  aware  of  this,  that  a  righteous  God  will  not 
give  you  much  time  to  waste  in  reasoning  against  so  plain  a 
duty,  and  in  inventing  vain  excuses  for  your  neglect  of  Sab- 
bath and  sanctuary  privileges.  They  will  very  soon  be  for 
ever  beyond  your  reach.      "What  thou  doest,  do  quickly." 

More  reasons  we  might  give  ;  but  are  not  these  enough  ? 
Will  joncandidlg  and  seriously  consider  these  ?  Will  you  es- 
tablish for  yourself  the  practice  of  regular  and  conscientious 
attendayice  on  the  public  iDorship  of  God  ?  Will  you  begin 
NEXT  Sabbath  ?  The  Lord  incline  your  heart  to  do  it,  bless 
you  in  it,  and  prepare  you,  by  his  grace,  for  the  services  of 
the  Sabbath  which  is  everlasting ;  for  the  worship  of  that 
sanctuary  "  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens." 


PUBLISHED   BT    THE    AMERICAN   TRACT    SOCIETY. 


]¥o.  378, 

THE   FALSE   HOPE. 

BY  REV.   RICHARD  KNILL, 

OF     ST.     FETERSBURGH. 


God  often  produces  great  effects  from  little  causes. 
This  has  seldom  been  more  strikingly  displayed  than  in  the 
circumstances  about  to  be  narrated. 

Many  years  ago,  I  was  addressing  a  strange  congrega- 
tion, and  took  for  my  text  the  words  of  the  apostle,  "  Good 
hope  through  grace."  In  opening  the  subject,  I  introduced 
the  following  narrative. 

A  student  for  the  Christian  ministry  was  brought,  in  the 
course  of  providence,  into  the  company  of  a  young  lady 
who  was  just  recovering  from  a  dangerous  illness.  She 
was  still  very  weak,  but  liked,  as  most  persons  do  when 
recovering,  to  tell  how  much  she  had  suffered,  and  how 
wonderful  was  the  preservation  of  her  life. 

Among  other  things  she  said,  "  At  one  time  I  sent  for 
my  aged  parents,  and  my  beloved  brothers  and  sisters ;  and 
took,  as  I  thought,  my  last  farewell  of  them.  Both  the 
physicians  had  given  me  up,  and  my  friends  expected  to 
see  me  no  more." 

As  she  finished  this  sentence,  the  young  man  said  to  her, 
*'  We  seldom  meet  with  a  person  who  has  been  so  near  to 
death  as  you  have  been.  Pray,  tell  me  what  were  your 
feelings  when  you  were  on  the  verge  of  eternity  ?" 

"L  was  happy,"  she  rephed. 

**  And  will  you  please  to  tell  me  what  were  your  pros- 
pects?" 

"1  hoped  to  go  to  heaven,  of  course." 

**Had  you  no  doubts,  no  fears,  no  suspicions?" 

*'iVowe." 

"  Perhaps  almost  all  hope  to  go  to  heaven.  But  I  fear 
there  are  very  few  who  have  a  good  foundation  for  their 
hope.     Pray,  on  what  was  your  hope  founded  ?" 

"Founded?"  she  replied;  ''why,  I  have  never  injured 
any  one,  and  I  had  endeavored  to  do  all  the  good  in  my 
power.     Was  not  this  sufficient?" 


2  THE  FALSE  HOPE. 

"It  is  a  delightful  reflection,"  said  the  student,  "never 
to  have  injured  any  one ;  and  still  more  delightful  to  think 
of  having  done  all  the  good  in  our  power.  But  even  this  is 
a  poor  foundation  for  a  sinner  to  rest  upon.  Was  this  the 
foundation  of  your  hope?" 

She  seemed  quite  astonished  at  this  question,  and  eager- 
ly inquired,  "  Was  not  this  sufficient  ?" 

The  young  man  did  not  give  her  a  direct  answer,  but 
observed,  "  I  am  very  thankful  that  you  did  not  then  die." 

"  What,  do  you  think  I  should  not  have  gone  to  heaven  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  you  could  not  in  the  way  you  mentioned. 
Do  you  not  perceive,  that  according  to  your  plan  you  w^ere 
going  to  heaven  tvithout  CJu'lst?  This  is  what  no  sinner 
has  done  since  Adam  fell,  and  what  no  sinner  will  be  able 
to  do  while  the  world  stands.  Be  very  thankful  that  you 
did  not  go  out  of  life  resting  on  this  delusive  foundation. 
Jesus  says,  '  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life ;  no 
man  cometh  unto  the  Father  but  by  me.'  " 

God  carried  home  this  word  to  her  soul.  Lio-ht  broke 
in  upon  her  mind.  From  that  day  a  decided  change  took 
place  in  the  young  lady's  views ;  and  a  corresponding  holi- 
ness, and  love,  and  zeal,  and  usefulness,  have  adorned  her 
future  life. 

Before  I  had  finished  this  short  narrative,  there  was  a 
mild,  sedate-looking  person  in  the  congregation  deeply  af- 
fected. The  tears  were  streaming  down  his  placid  cheeks, 
and  although  he  tried  to  conceal  them,  yet  he  could  not. 
He  was  unknown  to  me  at  that  time,  but  he  has  since 
proved  one  of  my  most  affectionate  and  devoted  friends. 
Not  many  weeks  passed  before  I  received  a  visit  from  this 
friend,  when  the  following  conversation  took  place. 

"  I  am  come,  sir,  to  tell  you  what  the  Lord  has  done  for 
my  soul." 

"  Welcome,  welcome.  There  are  no  visits  so  much  to 
be  desired  as  those  which  refer  to  eternity.  Then  tell  me 
what  the  Lord  has  done  for  your  sovd." 

"0,"  rephed  the  happy  man,  "he  'hath  done  great 
things  for  me,  whereof  I  am  glad.'  My  experience  is  much 
hke  that  described  by  St.  Peter,  '  Whom  having  not  seen, 
ye  love ;  in  whom,  though  now  ye  see  him  not,  yet  believ- 
ing, ye  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.'  " 


THE  FALSE  HOPE.  3 

"  This  is  happiness,  indeed,  sir ;  may  it  ever  continue. 
Have  you  been  long  favored  with  it?" 

"Not  long,"  said  he.  ''Alas,  more  than  forty  years 
passed  away  before  I  knew  any  thing  about  it.  I  often  had 
serious  thoughts  of  eternity.  I  often  meditated  on  the  char- 
acter of  God.  1  often  thought  of  the  state  of  man  ;  and 
I  saw  such  infinite  perfection  in  the  Creator,  and  felt  that 
there  was  so  much  evil  in  myself,  that  at  last  I  concluded 
it  was  impossible  for  man — polluted,  guilty  man,  to  be  ad- 
mitted into  heaven ;  and  I  sought  for  peace  in  the  doctrine 
of  annihilation — I  say,  I  sought  for  peace  in  this  doctrine, 
but  I  found  it  not.  The  thought  would  often  occur,  *  Sup- 
pose, after  all,  you  should  be  mistaken ;  suppose  there 
should  be  a  resurrection  of  the  dead  ;  suppose  you  should 
be  judged  for  the  deeds  done  in  the  body;  what  then? 
What  will  become  of  you?'  These  thoughts,  and  thoughts 
like  these  broke  up  the  delusion  in  a  moment,  and  made  me 
uneasy  ;  and  it  is  very  strange  that  all  this  while  the  doc- 
trine of  Christ's  atonement  was  hid  from  my  eyes.  I  must 
have  heard  of  it,  and  read  of  it,  times  innumerable.  My 
parents  were  religious  people,  and  brought  me  up  in  the 
nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord.  When  I  was  young, 
I  regularly  attended  the  ministry  of  the  word ;  and  all  the 
grand  outlines  of  the  Bible  have  been  familiar  to  me  from 
my  childhood ;  and  yet  I  was  as  ignorant  of  the  way  of  sal- 
vation as  if  I  had  never  seen  a  Bible.  I  had  no  conception 
how  *  God  could  be  just,  and  yet  the  justifier  of  him  that 
believeth  in  Jesus.'  Yes,  it  was  on  this  point  I  was  com- 
pletely in  the  dark ;  and  so  it  remained  until  the  morning 
w^ien  you  related  the  anecdote  about  the  young  lady." 

"And  what  effect  did  the  relation  of  that  anecdote 
produce  ?" 

"  Indeed,  sir,  it  was  wonderful.  While  you  were  show- 
ing the  fallacy  of  her  hope,  and  declaring  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  the  only  hope  of  the  lost ;  that  none  can  come  unto  the 
Father  but  by  him ;  a  flood  of  light  burst  upon  my  mind. 
I  saw  the  whole  plan  of  salvation  with  as  much  distinctness 
as  if  I  had  studied  the  subject  for  a  thousand  years.  All 
that  I  had  read  and  heard  on  the  subject,  seemed  to  rush 
on  my  memory  at  once.  I  could  have  explained  it  to  all 
the  world.  I  Avas  overwhelmed  with  joy.  1  saw  the  ful- 
ness, the  freeness,  the  all-sufficiencv  of  Christ,  in  such  a  cleai 


4  THE  FALSE  HOPE. 

and  glorious  manner,  that  if  I  had  possessed  ten  thousand 
souls,  I  could  have  committed  them  all  into  his  hands,  and 
I  did  embrace  him  with  joy  unspeakable.  Indeed,  I  could 
have  rejoiced  that  moment  to  have  escaped  from  this  earth- 
ly tabernacle,  and  to  have  entered  the  happy  world  *  where 
Jesus  is  incessantly  adored.'  " 

Such  impassioned  language  coming  from  a  young  man 
of  warm  temperament  would  have  almost  excited  our  fears  ; 
but  here  I  saw  a  model  of  meekness,  and  prudence,  and 
thoughtfulness,  and  sedateness — a  Christian  opening  his 
mind  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  on  the  subject  of  experi- 
mental religion,  and  in  such  a  way  as  filled  my  soul  with 
praise. 

Reader,  is  there  not  a  power,  secret,  invisible,  omnipo- 
tent, which  often  accompanies  pious  conversation  and  the 
preached  word  ? 

Pause — consider.     Hast  thou  felt  it  ? 

Is  not  this  power  absolutely  needful  to  drive  the  sinner 
from  delusive  hopes,  and  to  bring  him  to  rest  entirely  on 
the  merits  of  Jesus  ?  Dost  thou  see  the  need  of  it  as  it 
regards  thyself  and  all  thy  dealings  with  the  souls  of  oth- 
ers ?     Then  ask  it  of  God,  with  a  living  faith. 

May  it  not  be  feared,  that  many  will  read  this  paper 
whose  hope  of  heaven  is  not  better  than  the  young  lady's 
was  at  the  moment  when  she  said,  "  I  hoped  to  go  to  heav- 
en, of  course  ;"  and  why  ?  Because  she  had  not  injured 
any  one,  and  because  she  had  endeavored  to  befriend  her 
fellow-creatures.  0,  reader,  away  with  all  such  hopes. 
"  Behold,"  saith  the  Lord  God,  "  I  lay  in  Zion  for  a  foun- 
dation a  stone,  a  tried  stone,  a  precious  corner-stone,  a  sure 
foundation,  and  whosoever  helieveth  on  Him,  shall  not  be 
ashamed."  This  foundation  is  Christ.  Rest  here,  and  you 
are  safe. 

Why  is  it  that  even  pious  people  have  not  more  joy  in 
their  experience  ?  Because  their  views  of  Christ  are  not 
sufficiently  clear ;  or  else  their  faith  in  him  is  mingled  with 
some  secret  trusting  to  a  broken  reed. 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN   TRACT    SOCIETY. 


]¥o.  379, 

SOME    MEMORIALS 


OF 


ED¥ARD    LEE. 

AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD. 


When  the  grace  of  God  in  tlie  heart  of  man  appears 
clearly  in  humble  life,  it  shines  with  peculiar  brightness. 
It  was  so  with  the  subject  of  the  present  notice.  He  was 
born  in  the  secluded  village  of  Manchester,  on  the  sea-shore, 
in  the  state  of  Massachusetts,  November  30,  1729,  and  died 
December  22,  1793.  It  is  therefore  now  more  than  forty 
years  since  his  departure,  and  yet  in  his  native  village  his 
memory  is  fresh  and  blessed,  and  "  his  name  is  as  ointment 
poured  forth."  For  that  region,  he  is  one  of  the  ''great 
cloud  of  witnesses ;"  and  it  is  a  happy  thing  for  a  neigh- 
borhood, a  church,  or  a  village,  to  recognize  in  that  heav- 
enly train  a  particular  bright  star,  that  went  up  on  high 
from  amidst  their  own  society ;  for  it  exerts  a  sort  of  heav- 
enly attraction  over  all  who  saw  its  brightness,  and  who 
beheld,  or  were  told  by  others  of  the  glory  of  its  transla- 
tion to  heaven. 

Edward  Lee's  conversion  did  not  occur  till  he  was  more 
than  thirty  years  old,  and  apparently  hardened  in  sin.  He 
lived  a  sailor  from  his  early  life,  Avith  a  sailor's  recklessness, 
and  what  was  then,  peculiarly,  a  sailor's  profaneness.  He 
had  been  blessed  with  a  pious  mother,  of  whom  it  is  related 
that  often  in  the  winter  season  she  broke  a  pathway  through 
the  drifted  snow  from  her  little  cottage  to  the  house  of  God, 
for  herself  and  her  fatherless  children.  Her  prayers  fol- 
lowed her  beloved  son  amidst  all  his  profaneness,  and  in 
the  midnight  storm  he  seemed  to  hear  her  warning  voice ; 
and  many  a  night,  amidst  the  terrors  of  the  ocean,  he  dared 
not  close  his  eyes  in  sleep,  because  he  feared  he  might  awake 

V     VOL.  X.  '-^O 


2  SOME  MEMORIALS  OF  EDWARD  LEE. 

in  hell.  He  was  in  Lisbon  at  the  time  of  the  great  earth- 
quake which  destroyed  a  large  portion  of  that  city,  and  by 
that  solemn  event  was  especially  alarmed  and  terrified. 

But  all  these  terrors  of  soul  and  convictions  of  con- 
science wore  off,  leaving  him  exceedingly  hardened  and 
blinded,  till,  in  1763,  a  glorious  revival  of  religion  was  en- 
joyed in  a  neighboring  congregation,  so  glorious  as  to  attract 
many  from  his  native  village,  and  among  others  his  own 
wife,  who  became  a  follower  of  Christ.  For  himself,  he 
derided  the  work,  declaring  that  he  wanted  not  a  religion 
that  had  so  much  noise  and  excitement ;  and  he  went  to  the 
scene  where  the  Spirit  of  God  was  thus  poured  out,  re- 
solved with  his  whole  heart  to  oppose  it.  He  "  went  to 
scoff,"  but  God  in  mercy  met  him,  and  he  returned  "to 
pray."  His  convictions  of  guilt  were  deep  and  pungent, 
but  for  several  weeks  he  remained  unreconciled  to  God, 
though  all  the  while  attending  meetings,  reading  his  Bible, 
and  very  earnest  in  prayer.  It  was  the  mere  dread  of  hell 
that  led  him  to  these  duties,  and  not  the  spirit  of  submission 
and  love. 

At  length  one  night,  amidst  the  agony  of  his  convic- 
tions, he  resolved  to  throw  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  his 
Saviour.  He  arose  from  his  bed,  determined  that,  if  he 
must  perish,  it  should  be  pleading  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and 
crying  out  in  the  deepest  abasement,  "  Lord,  save  me,  I 
perish  ;"  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner."  He  had  no 
sooner  done  this,  than  he  found  peace,  even  while  upon 
his  knees  in  prayer :  the  moment  he  ceased  from  his  self- 
righteous  efforts,  and  came  to  the  point  of  entire  submis- 
sion at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  throwing  himself  on  the  mercy 
of  his  Saviour,  that  moment  the  Saviour  began  to  appear 
lovely  to  his  soul,  his  heart  was  broken,  the  burden  of  sin 
removed ;  and  the  night  which  began  almost  with  the  wail- 
ings  of  despair,  was  ended  in  the  praises  of  his  Redeemer. 

From  that  time  the  life  of  Edward  Lee  was  one  of  humil- 
ity, self-denial,  gratitude,  and  prayer.  He  could  scarcely 
ever  speak  of  his  conversion  without  tears ;  so  deep  and 


SOME  MEMORIALS  OF  EDWARD  LEE.  3 

vivid  was  the  remembrance  of  his  hardened,  guilty,  and 
lost  condition,  and  so  powerful  his  sense  of  the  infinite  love 
of  Christ  to  his  wretched  soul.  Those  things  were  ever  in 
his  mind,  exciting  him  to  a  consecration  of  all  his  powers  to 
tlmt  blessed  Being  who  by  his  own  precious  blood  had 
redeemed  him  from  such  fearful  guilt,  and  saved  him  from 
such  intolerable  wrath.  His  business  thenceforward  was 
the  service  of  his  Saviour,  and  his  supreme  anxiety  and  hap- 
piness was  to  seek,  by  all  means  in  his  power,  to  win  souls 
to  Christ.  It  was  a  thorough  change,  wrought  in  him  by 
the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  a  new  creation :  from  that 
time  it  might  be  truly  said,  that  his  "  life  was  hid  with  Christ 
in  God,"  and  from  that  time  he  entered  on  the  delightful 
work  of  publishing  the  goodness  of  his  Saviour.  He  was 
like  blind  Bartimeus  : 

"  Now,  methinks,  I  hear  him  praising, 
Publishing  to  all  around, 
'  Friends,  is  not  my  case  amazing  ? 
What  a  Saviour  I  have  found  !' " 

He  went  first  to  his  reckless  seafaring  hretliren  ;  and  we 
may  easily  conceive  with  what  astonishment  they  would 
see  Edward  Lee,  that  hardened  scoffer,  now  a  humble  be- 
liever, pleading  with  them  to  flee  to  the  Lamb  of  God ; 
assuring  them,  from  his  own  blessed  experience,  of  the 
preciousness  of  Christ,  and  the  glory,  the  fulness,  and  the 
freeness  of  salvation. 

After  uniting  with  the  church  of  Christ,  he  followed  his 
occupation  as  usual  for  the  support  of  his  family,  and  dur- 
ing a  voyage  in  a  fishing  vessel,  spent  so  much  of  his  time 
in  exhortation  and  prayer,  that  his  shipmates  thought  him 
mad.  He  did  not,  however,  remain  with  them  long,  for  he 
began  to  feel  as  if  he  were  out  of  the  path  of  duty  at  sea, 
and  his  soul  panted  with  such  earnestness  after  the  privi- 
leges of  the  sanctuary  and  the  salvation  of  souls,  that  he 
longed  to  be  again  on  shore,  and  to  go  from  place  to  place 
with  the  messages  of  mercy.     Accordingly,  when  they  fell 


4  SOME  MEMORIALS  OF  EDWARD  LEE. 

in  witli  a  homewardbound  vessel,  the  captain  consented  that 
he  should-  return  home,,  rejoicing,  perhaps,  to  be  delivered 
from  his  holy  faithfulness  and  importunity. 

When  he  got  back,  he  speedily  made  known  the  state 
of  his  feelings  to  his  minister,  and  his  panting  desires  to  go 
forth  into  the  highways  and  hedges  in  pursuit  of  sinners,  and 
"compel  them  to  come  in."  His  pastor  very  judiciously 
advised  him  to  labor  to  do  good  in  the  little  neighborhood 
where  God  in  his  providence  had  fixed  his  sphere ;  and  the 
course  he  took  on  receiving  the  advice  was  a  proof  of  the 
depth  and  humility,  as  well  as  the  fervor  of  his  piety.  He 
went  away  to  a  place  in  the  forest  knoAvn  only  to  himself, 
to  seek  counsel  of  God  by  fasting  and  prayer ;  and  he  ex- 
perienced the  truth  of  the  declaration,  that  God  is  the  guide 
and  "rewarder  of  them  who  diligently  seek  him." 

He  had  a  pious  sister,  a  widow,  who  lived  in  a  little 
cottage  not  far  from  the  borders  of  the  forest.  Just  as  the 
sun  was  setting  her  brother  Edward  came  in,  his  eyes 
swollen  and  red  with  weeping,  while  his  face  shone  as 
from  immediate  communion  with  God.  "Rejoice  with 
me,"  said  he,  "  my  dear  sister,  for  Christ  has  been  with 
me ;"  the  Saviour,  he  said,  had  accepted  the  desires  of  his 
heart  to  plead  in  his  name  with  perishing  sinners.  At  the 
same  time  he  expressed  himself  fully  satisfied  with  the 
advice  of  his  good  minister,  and  willing  to  use  his  "one 
talent "  at  home,  and  to  do  with  his  might  whatever  God 
in  his  goodness  might  give  him  opportunity  of  doing. 

His  holy  desires  for  usefulness  were  no  wild  uncertain 
impulse,  but  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  his  heart; 
and  from  this  time  till  the  period  of  his  death,  for  more 
than  thirty  years,  he  was  "  a  burning  and  a  shining  light," 
irradiating  with  a  steady,  and  steadily  increasing  lustre,  the 
sphere  of  life  he  occupied.  His  course  was  consistent  as 
well  as  fervent,  and  every  year  he  gained  a  greater  influence 
as  a  man  of  God.  He  owned  a  house,  with  a  barn  and  a 
few  acres  of  land  attached  to  it ;  and  after  the  day  described 
above  as  spent  in  fasting  and  prayer  in  the  forest,  he  estab- 


SOxME  MEMORIALS  UF  EDWARD  LEE.  5 

lished  a  ''conference  meeting''  in  his  oion  cottage — every 
Thursday  afternoon  being  consecrated  to  the  worship  of 
God,  even  if  none  but  his  own  family  attended — a  practice 
maintained  till  his  death,  and  in  which,  as  the  priest  in  his 
own  household  during  the  long  period  of  thirty  years,  he 
must  have  found  great  enjoyment,  and  accomplished  much 
for  God.  Even  to  this  day,  though  the  house  he  inhabited 
is  no  lono-er  standing,  yet  the  spot  where  it  stood,  and  the 
fields  around  it,  look  like  holy  ground  to  those  who  remem- 
ber the  character  of  its  tenant.  It  was  indeed  a  Bethel  for 
all  who  visited  it ;  and  such  was  his  love  towards  those  of 
every  denomination,  in  whom  he  could  trace  the  image  of 
his  divine  Master,  and  such  the  open  hospitality  of  his  httle 
store,  that  his  house  might  be  truly  called  the  pilgrim's 
home ;  and  many  a  weary  traveller  has  left  its  lowly  roof 
with  tears  of  gratitude  for  its  blessed  refreshment.  His 
homely  fare  was  seasoned  with  cordial  love ;  but,  with  a 
sort  of  jealousy  for  the  Lord's  goodness,  he  would  never 
allow  an  apology  to  be  made  over  the  food  upon  his  table, 
but  would  mildly  and  affectionately  reprove  his  wife  and 
children  if  they  made  any,  by  saying,  "  0,  do  not  say  so ; 
it  is  all  better  than  we  poor  sinners  deserve,  and  is  given  to 
us  sinners  only  through  the  mercy  of  Christ." 

"  The  little  that  a  righteous  man  hath  is  better  than  the 
riches  of  many  wicked."  Edward  Lee's  family  thought 
that  he  gave  away  at  least  an  eighth  of  his  little  income ; 
and  yet,  with  all  this,  he  left  enough  for  the  support  of  his 
widow  for  twenty  years  or  more  after  his  death.  He  was 
industrious,  frugal,  and  temperate  in  all  his  habits:  "dili- 
gent in  business,  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord;"  obey- 
ing as  faithfully  and  consistently  the  one  precept  as  the 
other.  And  he  was  so  conscientious  in  all  his  dealings,  and 
at  the  same  time  so  anxious  to  embrace  every  opportunity 
of  winning  souls  to  Christ,  that  if,  when  on  his  way  to  a 
day's  work,  he  stopped  to  converse  with  any  person,  as  was 
often  the  case,  he  would  run  to  regain  the  time,  that  he 
micrht  not  wronjr  his  em  plover.  It  was  said  of  him,  that  he 
VOL.  X.  20* 


6  SOME  MEMORIALS  OF  EDWARD  LEE. 

always  walked  "  like  one  that  doetli  the  kmg's  business, 
that  requixeth  haste."  Such,  also,  was  his  scrupulous  ten^ 
derness  of  conscience,  that  once,  when  he  thought  he  had 
not  given  enough  by  a  penny  to  some  fishermen  with  whom 
he  had  been  dealing,  he  went  back  and  insisted  upon  their 
taking  fourfold.  After  his  conversion  he  never  used  any 
intoxicating  drink ;  and  even  the  habit  of  tobacco-chewing, 
to  which,  like  all  sailors,  he  was  idolatrously  devoted,  he  at 
once  renounced,  nor  ever  again  used  that  pernicious  weed 
in  any  way. 

His  habits  in  regard  to  the  Sabbath  illustrated  his  piety, 
for  he  was  a  strict  observer  of  its  holiness,  would  never 
suffer  any  unnecessary  work  to  be  done  in  his  family  on  that 
day ;  and  if  he  saw  any  one  pass  who  he  thought  was  vio- 
lating its  sacredness,  would  go  out  of  his  house  and  with 
tears  expostulate  Avith  the  individual.     His  soul  was  greatly 
grieved  by  the  carelessness  of  man)'  professors  of  religion 
in  resrard  to  the  Sabbath,  and  he  Avas  said  often  to  have 
spent  the  Avhole  night  of  that  sacred  day  in  prayers  and 
weeping  on  account  of  their  unholy  observance  of  it.     Tlie 
intermission  season    between   the   morning  and    afternoon 
services,  he  Avas  accustomed  to  spend  in  the  house  of  God, 
exhorting  and  praying  Avith  his  brethren.     He  Avas  ahvays 
early  at  the  sanctuary,  and  Avas  Avont  to  stand  up  from  the 
commencement   of  its  sacred  services   till   their   end :  his 
whole  appearance  in  the  house  of  prayer,  his  silver  locks, 
his  heavenly  smile,  his  holy  attitude,  forming  a  delightful 
image  of  the  happiness  of  the  Christian  in  the  worship  of 
God. 

The  communion  Sabbath  Avas  doubly  sacred  and  dear  to 
him ;  and  in  preparation  for  its  solemn  and  affecting  ordi- 
nances he  Avas  most  assiduous.  The  Friday  before  the 
Lord's  supper  he  always  spent,  in  his  favorite  Bethel  in  the 
Avoods,  in  fasting  and  in  prayer ;  and  that  he  might  not 
appear  unto  men  to  fast,  he  Avould  bring  home  at  night,  as 
usual,  a  burden  of  Avood  upon  his  shoulders.  Thus  diH- 
gently  waiting  upon  the  Lord,  the  sacred  feast  could  not 


SOME  MEMORIALS  OF  EDWARD  LEE.  7 

well  be  otherwise  to  him  than  a  season  of  great  refreshment 
and  spiritual  jo}^  preceded  as  it  was  by  such  earnest  and 
humble  prostration  of  soul  in  preparation  for  its  observance. 

His  habits  of  conversation  and  expostulation  with  the 
impenitent  were  a  portion  of  his  life  and  character  too 
remarkable  not  to  be  particularly  noticed.  He  might  emi- 
nently be  said  to  be  a  living  commentary  on  that  exhorta- 
tion of  the  apostle,  to  "  walk  in  wisdom  towards  them  that 
are  without,  redeeming  the  time."  He  accounted  the  sea- 
son of  probation  as  unutterably  precious — the  seedtime  of 
eternity,  and  he  would  not  waste  a  moment.  Indeed,  like 
the  apostle,  he  "  ceased  not  to  warn  every  one  night  and 
day  with  tears."  He  never  walked  far  in  the  street  Avith 
any  person,  whether  a  stranger  or  an  acquaintance,  without 
asking  if  the  individual's  peace  were  made  with  God. 

It  was  his  custom  to  visit  every  family  in  the  village 
once  a  year,  to  inquire  after  their  spiritual  Avelfare ;  and  the 
houses  of  affliction  and  death  were  at  all  times  sure  of  his 
visits  and  prayers.  A  pious  lady  recollects  his  visiting  in 
her  family  one  day,  when  he  observed  that  he  felt  it  as 
much  his  duty  to  come  there  that  afternoon,  as  if  an  earthly 
parent  had  bid  him  go  upon  some  special  errand.  The  love 
of  Christ,  and  a  near  view  of  eternity,  rendered  him  supe- 
rior to  the  fear  of  man ;  and  he  would  speak  as  freely  of 
heaven  and  hell  in  the  parlor  of  the  rich,  as  in  the  cabin  of 
the  poor. 

Calling  once  upon  a  family  of  high  repute  in  his  native 
village,  he  began,  in  his  usual  fervent  manner,  to  speak  of 
the  wonders  of  redeeming  love ;  and  upon  the  lady  of  the 
house  reproving  him  for  speaking  so  loudly,  "  Oh,  madam," 
said  he,  "  to  what  Avorld  can  you  go  where  there  are  not 
loud  voices?  In  heaven  the  saints  and  ano-els  sins:  the 
songs  of  glory  aloud,  and  in  hell  the  devils  and  damned 
spirits  weep  and  wail  aloud." 

When  pleading  with  the  unconverted,  he  seemed  like  a 
tender  father  who  sees  his  house  on  fire,  with  his  children 
asleep  under  the  falUng  roof;  and  though  his  appearance 


8  SOME  MEMORIALS  OF  EDWARD  LEE. 

was  always  cheerful  and  happy,  yet  he  might  be  said,  with 
Paul,  to  have  "  great  heaviness  and  continual  sorrow  of 
heart"  on  account  of  perishing  sinners  around  him. 

The  year  before  he  died,  he  made  a  visit  to  some  friends 
in  the  country,  and  one  night  put  up  at  an  inn  where  a 
country  hall  had  commenced.  He  asked  to  be  admitted 
into  the  ballroom,  and  they  gave  him  admission,  not  a  lit- 
tle curious  to  see  what  would  be  the  result,  and  probably 
expecting  a  triumph  on  their  own  part ;  but  no  sooner  had 
he  entered,  than  he  began  to  speak  on  the  one  theme  that 
absorbed  his  soul,  with  such  fervency  and  power,  that  the 
music  ceased,  the  dancing  was  suspended,  the  place,  which 
had  resounded  with  merriment,  became  silent  and  solemn ; 
and  the  evening,  which  commenced  in  thoughtless  gayety, 
was  spent  in  holy  exhortation,  and  closed  with  prayer. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1*780,  there  was  a  very  terrific 
dark  day  in  New  England,  when  all  faces  seemed  to  gather 
blackness,  and  the  people  were  filled  with  fear.  There  was 
great  distress  in  the  village  where  Edward  Lee  lived,  men's 
hearts  failing  them  with  fear  that  the  judgment- day  was  at 
hand ;  and  the  neighbors  all  flocked  around  the  Inoly  man, 
for  his  lamp  was  trimmed,  and  shining  brighter  than  ever 
amidst  the  unnatural  darkness.  Happy  and  joyful  in  God, 
he  pointed  them  to  their  only  i-efuge  from  the  wrath  to 
come,  and  spent  the  gloomy  hours  in  earnest  prayer  for  the 
distressed  multitude.  His  nephew,  who  was  then  a  little 
child,  in  after-life  retained  a  lively  recollection  of  that  scene  ; 
and  his  childish  feelings  are  an  interesting  exhibition  of  the 
manner  in  which  Mr.  Lee  was  regarded,  for  he  felt  not  the 
least  alarm  in  his  presence,  thinking  that  he  was  perfectly 
safe  where  his  good  uncle  was,  even  if  the  day  of  judgment 
had  come. 

The  children  of  the  village  all  loved  him,  and  rejoiced 
if  they  could  do  him  a  kindness.  He  had  always  a  most 
humbling  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  and  a  lively  grat- 
itude for  any  favor  conferred.  He  would  bless  his  bene- 
factors with  tears,  and  would  say,  "  I  hope  my  God  will 


SOME  MEMORIALS  OF  EDWARD  LEE.  9 

reward  you  a  thousand- fold  from  the  upper  and  the  nether 
springs,  for  your  kindness  to  one  so  sinful  and  unworthy." 
Always,  in  answer  to  every  salutation,  he  made  mention  of 
the  divine  goodness.  He  Avas  chastised  with  many  afflic- 
tions, for  our  Lord  hath  said,  "as  many  as  I  love,  I  rebuke 
and  chasten,"  and  God  is  not  a  father  who  will  spare  the 
rod  and  spoil  his  children.  Sanctified  afflictions  are  one  of 
the  sweetest,  surest  proofs  of  adoption  and  sonship. 

Within  a  few  months,  Edward  Lee  was  called  to  mourn 
the  loss  of  two  beloved  sons  at  sea ;  but  amidst  his  keenest 
sorrows,  he  felt  that  God  Avas  doing  it  all ;  and  while  he 
wept,  he  said,  that  if  the  mere  turning  of  his  hand  would 
reverse  the  decision  of  Providence,  and  bring  them  both 
to  life  again,  he  could  not  do  it.  God,  Avho  gave,  had  taken 
them,  and  it  was  right,  and  blessed  be  his  name. 

The  most  remarkable  feature  in  the  life  of  this  holy  man 
is  yet  to  be  mentioned — his  habits  of  prayer.  Here  was 
the  secret  of  his  power — his  close  walk  Avith  God.  A  great 
while  before  day,  he  Avould  arise  and  retire  to  a  solitary 
place  to  commune  Avith  God.  His  spirit  of  prayer  Avas 
seen  in  his  family  Avorship  ;  and  in  the  day,  besides  the  de- 
votions of  the  morning,  he  Avould  labor  the  harder,  that  he 
might  have  time  to  retire  aAvhile,  both  forenoon  and  after- 
noon, for  secret  prayer.  Then,  too,  at  midnight  he  Avas 
Avont  to  arise  and  give  thanks  to  God,  and  agonize  in  prayer 
for  the  Avorld's  evangelization.  A  fcAv  days  before  he  died, 
some  of  his  Christian  friends  being  around  his  bed,  he 
pointed  them  to  a  spot  on  the  floor,  and  obserA'ed,  that  for 
more  than  thirty  5'ears,  Avith  the  exception  of  ten  days' 
severe  illness,  he  had  risen  from  his  bed  every  night  and 
knelt  on  that  spot,  and  prayed  for  a  dying  Avorld's  salva- 
tion.    Happy  man  in  such  faithfulness  ! 

His  power  in  prayer  made  him  eminently  useful  in 
seasons  of  reviA^al.  It  Avas  said  of  him,  that  he  Avas  at  all 
times  dear  to  saints,  but  at  such  times  he  Avas  sougrht  out 
by  anxious  sinners.  His  minister  often  used  to  say,  "  I  am 
but  a  babe  to  brother  Lee ;  I  prize  his  prayers  more  than 


10  SUME  MEMORIALS  OF  EDWARD  LEE. 

gold."  He  loved  and  prayed  much  for  the  ministers  of 
Christ.  He  prayed  in  faith,  and  watched  and  expected  an 
answer  from  God.  Before  his  death,  he  told  his  family  of 
the  spiritual  joy  he  had  received  in  prayer  for  a  number  of 
persons,  who,  he  doubted  not,  would  be  heirs  of  salvation, 
and  who  have  been  converted  years  since  the  holy  man 
went  home  to  glory.  He  seems  to  have  had  an  inward 
assurance  or  token  of  the  acceptance  of  his  prayers.  He 
prayed  much  for  seamen,  and  ''wrestled"  in  prayer  for 
doors  to  be  opened  for  the  spread  of  the  Gospel  in  heathen 
lands.  In  reference  to  his  own  family,  he  had  the  happi- 
ness to  see  his  prayers  answered  in  the  conversion  of  three 
of  his  daughters. 

The  examidle  of  such  a  man,  the  spectacle  of  his  life 
and  conversation,  could  not  be  otherwise  than  powerful. 
The  most  hardened  infidels  would  always  acknowledge  that 
Edward  Lee  was  indeed  a  Christian  ;  and  the  present  min- 
ister of  the  church  in  Manchester  often  has  occasion  to  allude 
to  his  memory.  His  nephew,  who  spent  his  life  as  a  sea- 
man, but  died  in  the  hope  of  Christ,  declared,  at  the  close 
of  life,  that  he  thought  he  should  have  reason  to  bless  God 
through  eternity,  that,  in  his  youth,  he  had  an  uncle  Edward 
Lee ;  for,  after  seeing  the  different  religions  of  other  na- 
tions, and  the  inconsistent  lives  of  many  in  his  own  country 
who  professed  to  be  followers  of  Christ,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  impressions  made  upon  his  youthful  mind  of  the  reality 
of  the  religion  of  Christ  by  the  godly  life  of  his  uncle  Lee, 
he  should  probably  have  lived  and  died  an  infidel.  The 
limits  of  these  pages  will  not  permit  the  mention  of  numer- 
ous instances  in  which  his  labors  were  blessed  to  the  con- 
version of  souls.  Without  doubt  many  are  with  him  in 
glory,  and  doubtless  others  will  yet  be  brought  in,  by  whom 
his  happy  soul  will  be  encircled  in  the  day  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  recognized  as  the  children  whom  the  Lord  hath  given 
him  as  the  seals  of  his  faithfulness  and  crowns  of  his  rejoic- 
ing- 

The  scene  of  his  death  was  deeply  interesting.     He  was 


SOME  MEMORIALS  OF  EDWARD  LEE.  1 1 

daily  visited  by  the  people  of  God,  each  one  hoping  to  catch 
the  falling  mantle,  and  listening  to  the  words  of  fervent 
exhortation,  encouragement,  warning,  and  triumph,  that  fell 
from  the  lips  of  this  departing  saint.  It  was  a  chamber 
privileged  far  beyond  the  common  death-bed  of  the  Chris- 
tian. He  still  pleaded  with  the  unconverted  to  flee  from 
the  wrath  to  come,  and  with  the  followers  of  Christ  that 
they  would  live  near  to  God,  and  labor  for  the  world's  sal- 
vation. His  joys  were  very  great,  and  as  he  drew  near  to 
the  river  of  death,  the  borders  of  eternity,  at  times  he  had 
such  views  of  the  celestial  city  as  would  quite  overpower 
his  feeble  frame.  The  atoning  blood,  the  pardoning  love  of 
Christ  was  all  his  hope  and  all  his  theme,  ascribing  the 
whole  glory  of  his  salvation  to  the  riches  of  infinite  grace  in 
the  Redeemer  of  sinners.  He  died,  breaking  forth  in  an 
ecstasy  of  joy  so  strong,  that  his  voice  was  heard  for  some 
distance  from  the  cottage  :  "  Farewell,  vain  world  !  I  long 
to  drop  this  sinful,  dying  body !  I  long  for  death,  for  my 
Saviour  has  taken  its  sting  from  my  never-dyino-  soul.  I 
would  not  be  translated  as  Enoch  and  Elijah  Avere  for  a 
thousand  worlds.  Oh,  no ;  I  long  to  lie  down  in  the  grave, 
for  there  my  Saviour  has  lain,  and  I  know  that  my  Re- 
deemer LIVETH  !" 

The  character  of  an  eminently  good  man  is  always 
written  on  high,  but  not  always  in  this  world.  If  the  life 
of  Edward  Lee  could  be  written,  it  would  be  a  spiritual 
record — the  record,  as  we  have  intimated,  of  a  life  ''hid 
with  Christ  in  God.^^  Its  events  were  not  many,  but  when 
a  man's  life  is  so  hidden,  it  shines  very  brightly.  The 
world. do  not  see  its  inward,  hidden  processes ;  but  they  see 
its  outward  shinings,  and  are  constrained  to  admire  them. 
And  it  is  just  as  impossible  for  a  man  to  be  thus  inwardly 
united  to  Christ,  and  not  outwardly  live  to  his  glory,  as  it 
is  for  a  diamond  to  be  placed  in  the  sun  and  not  shine. 

The  life  of  Edward  Lee  is  a  bright  example  of  the 
power  of  holiness.     It  shows  the  vast  amount  of  usefulness 


X2  SOME  MEMORIALS  OF  EDWARD  LEE. 

which  the  humblest  private  Christian  may  be  the  means  of 
accomphshing  through  the  holy  activity  with  which  he  can 
adorn  his  profession.  The  power  of  Edward  Lee's  charac- 
ter, humble  as  he  was  in  life,  Avas  very  great.  Bold  blas- 
phemers feared  him ;  the  thoughtless  and  the  gay  were 
sober  and  silent  in  his  presence ;  the  good  revered  and 
loved  him,  and  many  of  the  bad  were  brought  to  repent- 
ance. So  Qfreat  is  the  influence  of  holiness.  A  man  of 
many  miracles  could  not  gain  a  greater  power  than  that 
perpetual  miracle,  eminent  holiness — a  close  walk  with  God 
long  maintained — will  confer  upon  the  Christian. 

Again,  his  life  is  an  eminent  example  of  tJie  power  of 
prayer.  He  spent  much  time  in  prayer,  and  seems  to  have 
wrestled  with  God  habitually  ;  and  this  was  the  secret  of 
all  his  attainments.  0  that  all  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus 
would  walk  as  closely  with  their  God ;  how  rapidly  would 
the  kingdom  of  our  Saviour  then  be  advanced !  Indeed, 
when  the  church  has  many  such  praying  saints  in  her 
ranks,  the  world  will  speedily  be  converted.  For,  it  is  not 
the  bustling,  but  the  praying  Christian,  who  does  the  work, 
and  is  honored  bj  the  Lord  as  his  successful  instrument  in 
performing  it.  Prayer  will  certainly  lead  to  external  labor, 
but  exte2-nal  labor  is  nothing  without  prayer.  Let  us  then 
remember  our  entire  dependence  on  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
pray  without  ceasing.  So  shall  we  have  the  blessed  privi- 
lege of  doing  something  for  our  risen  Lord,  who  is  infinitely 
worthy  "  to  receive  power,  and  riches,  and  wisdom,  and 
strength,  and  honor,  and  glory,  and  blessing,  for  ever  and 
ever." 


No.  380. 

THE 

SPIRIT    GRIEVED. 

A    NARRATIVE    OF    FACTS. 


In  January,  1825,  Mr.  H ,  of  S ,  New  York, 

where  I  was  preaching,  called  upon  me,  and  taking  me  by 
the  hand,  said,  "  Sir,  do  you  think  there  is  any  mercy  in 
heaven  for  a  man  who  has  sinned  more  than  eighty  years?" 

"There  is  mercy,"  I  replied,  "for  those  who  repent  of 
sin,  and  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

"But,  sir,  do  you  think  it  possible  that  God  will  forgive 
a  man  who  has  rebelled  against  him  eighty-one  years  ?" 
This  inquiry  was  made  with  a  solemnity  and  earnestness 
that  showed  the  deep  and  strong  emotions  of  his  soul.  He 
was  again  directed  to  Christ  as  the  only  source  of  mercy, 
and  exhorted  to  cast  himself  without  delay  on  him. 

Still  pressing  my  hand,  while  tears  were  flowing  over 
his  wrinkled  cheeks,  and  his  frame  trembling,  he  more  ear- 
nestly renewed  his  inquiry,  "My  dear  sir,  do  you  believe 
that  God  will  forgive  a  man  who  has  rebelled  against  him 
eighty-one  years  in  this  world?"  Before  a  word  was  ut- 
tered in  reply,  he  cried  out  in  agony,  "  I  know  I  shall  not 
be  forgiven — I  shall  die  in  my  sins!" 

This  caused  me  to  ask  how  he  knew,  or  what  induced 
him  to  believe  that  God  would  never  have  mercy  on  him. 

He  replied,  "  I  will  tell  you,  and  disclose  what  I  never 
uttered  to  any  human  being.  When  I  was  twenty-one,  I 
was  awakened  to  feel  that  I  was  a  sinner.  I  was  then  inti- 
mate with  a  number  of  young  men,  and  was  ashamed  to 
have  them  knoAv  that  I  was  anxious  for  my  soul.  For  five 
or  six  weeks  I  read  my  Bible,  and  prayed  every  day  in  se- 
cret. Then  /  said  in  my  heart  one  day,  I  will  init  this  sub- 
ject off  until  I  am  married  and  settled  in  life,  and  then  I 
will  attend  to  my  souVs  salvation.  But  I  Jcneio  that  I  was 
doing  wrong. 

"  After  I  was  settled  in  the  world,  I  thought  of  'the 
resolution  I  had  made,  and  of  my  solemn  promise  to  God 

VOL.  X.  21 


2  THE  SPIRIT  GRIEVED. 

then  to  make  my  peace  with  him.  But  as  I  had  no  dispo- 
sition to  do  so,  I  again  said  in  my  heart,  '  I  will  put  off  this 
subject  ten  years,  and  then  prepare  to  die.' 

"  The  time  came,  and  I  remembered  my  promise  ;  but 
I  had  no  special  anxiety  about  my  salvation.  Then  did  I 
again  postpone,  and  resolve  that  if  God  would  spare  me 
through  another  term  of  years,  I  would  certainly  attend  to 
the  concerns  of  my  soul.  God  kindly  spared  me  ;  but  I 
was  still  careless,  and  lived  on  in  my  sins ;  and  now  I  see 
my  awful  situation.  I  am  lost.  Now  I  believe  that  I  sinned 
against  the  Holy  Ghost  when  I  was  twenty- one,  and  that  I 
have  lived  sixty  years  since  my  day  of  grace  was  past.  / 
know  that  I  shall  not  he  forgiven.^'' 

This  simple-hearted  history  of  his  life,  and  the  deep  and 
awful  feelings  exhibited,  affected  and  alarmed  me.  It  ex- 
cited deep  compassion,  find  inexpressible  interest  for  his 
spiritual  welfare  ;  and  called  up  the  question.  Is  this  man 
among  the  unhappy  number  who,  Avhile  on  earth,  have 
sinned  away  their  day  of  grace  ? 

I  inquired  if  he  was  willing  that  we  should  pray  with 
him.  "Yes,"  he  replied,  "but  it  will  do  no  good."  The 
fearful  certainty  of  destruction  evinced  by  this  repl}^  affected 
to  tears  all  who  were  present,  while  it  roused  to  deeper  in- 
tensity the  hope  that  his  state  was  not  what  he  believed  it 
to  be. 

He  bowed  the  knee  with  us,  and  wept  as  prayer  was 
made  for  him,  and  even  continued  our  supplications  in  a 
few  words  from  his  own  lips ;  when  he  wept  aloud,  and 
rising,  spoke  in  such  a  manner  as  to  pierce  every  heart,  "It 
will  do  no  good,  God  will  never  hear  me." 

This  appalling  declaration,  made  by  a  man  in  the  vig- 
orous exercise  of  all  his  mental  faculties,  and  of  his  bodily 
powers,  and  made  with  so  much  tenderness  and  apparent 
conviction  of  its  truth,  spread  a  gloom  over  the  mind  inder 
scribably  awful.     Yet  I  still  had  hope  of  his  salvation. 

After  this,  for  weeks  and  months,  I  had  frequent  inter- 
views with  him.  I  always  found  him  in  deep  distress.  He 
would  request  me  to  pray  for  him,  or  was  willing  to  be  the 
subject  of  prayer  when  it  was  proposed.  But  this  blight- 
ing sentiment  was  always  foremost  in  his  thoughts,  "It  will 
do' no  good."  The  Saviour  was  often  held  up  to  his  view, 
and  he  v/as  told  of  the  efficacy  of  the  blood  of  Christ  in 


THE  SPIRIT  GRIEVED.  3 

cleansing  from  sin,  and  urged  to  accept  of  salvation  freely 
and  sincerely  offered  ;  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  The  hope  of 
salvation  could  not  be  awakened  within  him. 

His  very  distress  alarmed  me.  It  w^as  not  contrition,  or 
repentance  for  sin,  but  the  anticipation  of  wrath  to  come. 
This  filled  him  with  horror.  He  looked  back  and  saw  what 
he  had  done.  Then,  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  his 
mind  darted  forward  to  the  eternity  of  misery  before  him. 
With  no  disposition  to  repent  of  his  sins,  he  always  antici- 
pated and  dwelt  upon  the  horror  and  anguish  of  his  irre- 
versible doom.  Often  did  his  fearful  forebodings  remind 
me  of  those  concerning  whom  the  apostle  affirms,  "  There 
remaineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sins,  but  a  certain  fearful 
looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation^ 

Towards  the  close  of  the  year  which  opened  upon  him 
with  such  dark  and  cheerless  prospects,  he  was  seized  with 
sickness  that  soon  removed  him  to  the  world  of  retribution. 
During  the  intervals  of  reason,  he  had  the  most  fearful  an- 
ticipations of  the  future,  and  said  he  expected  the  wrath  of 
God  in  eternity.  On  the  night  he  died,  he  still  believed 
that,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  he  grieved  the  Holy  Spirit 
away  for  ever.  He  left  the  Avorld  under  the  awful  convic- 
tion, as  he  said,  that  his  soul  was  sinking  into  hell.  We 
follow  him  no  farther ;  we  attempt  not  to  lift  the  curtain 
that  hides  him  from  our  view ;  but  his  departure  made  a 
most  fearful  and  gloomy  impression  on  my  mind,  and  has 
always  been  associated  with  the  words  of  Christ,  "  The  last 
state  of  that  man  is  worse  than  the  first." 

This  history,  which  is  strictly  a.  narrative  of  facts,  may 
appeal  not  only  to  the  aged,  but  to  the  young. 

Your  day  of  grace,  dear  reader,  may  not  extend  to  the 
close  of  life.  It  may  already  have  passed.  Think  not  this 
suggestion  too  alarming  to  be  true.  God  has  said,  "  My 
Spirit  shall  not  always  strive  with  man."  "  I  will  hide  my 
face  from  them,  I  will  see  what  their  end  shall  be."  "  Fill 
ye  up,  then,  the  measure  of  your  fathers." 

These  passages,  and  many  others,  assure  you  that  some 
sinners  are  abandoned  of  God,  and  yet  live  for  years,  in 
which  they  only  prepare  for  a  deeper  perdition.  Do  you 
Tcnoiu  that  you  are  not  among  the  number  ?  How  infinitely 
momentous  the  inquiry,  "  Am  I  given  up  of  God  ?  Have 
I  grieved  away  the  Spirit  for  ever?"     Remember,  my  dear 


4  THE  SPIRIT  grievf:d. 

friend,  that  unbelief  and  indifference  to  this  subject  are 
among  the  "evident  tokens  of  perdition."  That  man,  of 
whom  you  have  now  read,  said,  that  until  a  few  hours  be- 
fore the  conversation  above  narrated,  it  did  not  occur  to 
him,  during  sixty  years,  that  he  Avas  forsaken  of  God. 
Have  you  not  been  an  awakened  sinner  ?  Has  not  the 
Spirit  striven  with  you  ?  Have  you  not  grieved  him  away, 
and  can  you  say,  It  is  not  for  ever? 

Nothing  will  be  more  fatal  to  your  hopes  than  to  in- 
dulge the  confidence  that  your  time  of  mercy  will  extend 
to  the  end  of  life.  Alas,  your  day  of  grace  may  be  passed, 
and  yet  you  may  be  secure  in  sin.  "  When  they  shall  say. 
Peace  and  safety,  then  sudden  destruction  cometh  upon 
them,  and  they  shall  not  escape." 

Let  it  be  imprinted  on  your  memory,  that  to  postpone 
the  day  of  repentance,  is  to  destroy  your  soul. 

Perhaps  you  say,  "  I  do  not  mean  to  postpone  for  ever." 
Who  ever  did  ?  But  have  you  not  secretly  deferred  this 
subject  to  a  definite,  or  to  an  uncertain  time  ?  The  unhappy 
man,  Avhose  history  is  before  you,  7iever  designed  an  eternal 
'postponement.  To  have  resolved  to  defer  repentance  until 
his  death-  bed,  or  until  his  day  of  grace  had  gone  by,  would 
have  been  horrible  in  his  view.  But  mark  the  deceptive 
influence  of  delay.  Did  not  his  brief  delays  cover  the  whole 
field  of  mercy,  and  extend  far  beyond  the  time  when  God 
said  of  him,  ''He  is  joined  to  idols,  let  him  alone."  Was 
not  the  blow  of  eternal  death  struck  when  he  was  yet  a 
young  man  ?  During  those  sixty  years  of  indiff"erence,  and 
yet  of  hope  in  his  view,  could  angels  have  wept,  w^ould  not 
their  tears  have  fallen  over  this  delaying  and  ruined  sinner? 
Awake,  then,  immortal  reader  !  0  awake  at  the  call  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  speedily  take  refuge  in  Jesus  Christ !  To 
delay  is  to  destroy  yourself.  His  arms  will  not  always  be 
stretched  forth  to  save ;  he  will  not  always  wait  to  be 
gracious.  '' To-day,^'  saith  the  Holy  Ghost,  "if  ye  will 
hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  heart."  "  Whereas  ye 
know  not  what  shall  he  on  the  morroio.^^ 


PUBLISHED  BY   THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


]\o.  381. 

"WE  ARE   ALL  HERE." 


And  that  we  are  so,  is  surely  a  cause  of  great  astonish- 
ment to  angels,  and  of  envy  and  wrath  to  devils.  Yes, 
blessed  be  God,  "we  are  all  here" — here  in  health  and 
■fetrength — hei'e  in  the  enjoyment  of  ten  thousand  blessings 
of  a  kind  Providence — here  in  possession  of  the  inestimable 
means  of  salvation — all  of  us  here,  and  out  of  hell. 

Yes,  '' ive  are  all  here'' — here  in  the  land  of  the  living, 
and  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  day  of  salvation.  But  on  the 
HOLY  Sabbath,  when  God  sends  his  servants  to  speak  to  us 
in  his  name  all  the  things  he  has  commanded,  as  he  sent 
Peter  to  Cornelius  and  his  friends,  where  are  we  ?  Answer, 
0  Sabbath -breaker,  to  your  own  conscience  answer.  Are 
you  in  that  place  where  you  know  the  servant  of  the  Most 
High  God  shall  come  ?  Where  God,  in  infinite  love,  shall 
send  his  messengers  of  mercy  and  grace  to  men  ?  Alas 
for  you,  you  are  not ;  your  empty  pew,  your  own  accusing 
conscience,  your  grieving  minister,  the  angels  of  God,  and 
God  himself,  being  witnesses. 

But  where  are  you  '?  At  home,  enjoying  the  company  of 
a  visitor,  who,  not  to  hinder  business,  his  own  or  yours,  on 
a  week-day,  dares  himself  to  violate  God's  most  holy  Sab- 
bath, to  neglect  public  worship  and  the  salvation  of  his  own 
soul,  and  to  hinder  you,  through  your  false  love  or  fear  of 
him,  from  doing  your  duty  to  God,  your  own  soul,  the 
world,  and  the  church  of  the  Redeemer.  Heaven-daring, 
soul-ruininof  visits  are  these.  You  both  are,  but  it  is  of  the 
Lord's  mercy  that  you  are  out  of  hell,  and  that  you  were 
not  struck  dead — he  for  his  sinful  visit,  and  you  for  being 
detained  from  the  house  of  God  for  his  sake.  How  will 
such  a  visit  appear  to  you  on  your  dying  bed  ?  Would  you 
desire  to  spend  your  last  Sabbath  so  ? 

But  lohere  are  you  ?  At  home  ;  too  indolent  and  too  care- 
less  of  God,  your  soul,  and  eternity,  to  put  yourself  to  the 
trouble  of  going  to  the  house  of  prayer.  Too  indolent  to 
obey  God  ;  too  indolent  to  secure  the  salvation  of  your  never- 
dying  soul.  0,  if  another  treated  your  everlasting  welfare 
as  you  yourself  do,  all  the  world  would  hear  your  com- 

VOL.  X.  21*^ 


2  "  WE  ARE  ALL  HERE." 

plaints.  But  it  is  7/ourseIf  thai  thus  slight  and  neglect  your 
own  soul.  And  do  death  and  judgment  stand  still  to  wait 
your  leisure  ?  O  no,  the  judgment  of  God  *'lingereth  not ; 
and  your  damnation,"  0  Sabbath-breaker,  "  slumbereth  not." 
The  day  is  hastening  on,  will  soon  be  here,  when  your  ref- 
uges of  lies  shall  be  swept  away — "  your  covenant  with 
death,  and  your  agreement  with  hell  "  disannulled  ;  and 
what  will  you  do  in  that  day  ?  Reproach  your  minister 
because  he  did  not  warn  you  ?  No,  but  you  will  curse  your- 
self because  you  set  at  naught  his  warnings,  and  neglected 
the  messages  of  salvation  he  brought  to  you  from  God. 
Your  blood  shall  be  upon  your  own  head. 

But  2vhe7'e  are  you  ?  You  started  on  Saturday  afternoon, 
it  may  be,  to  'pay  a  visit  to  your  friend — there,  however,  to 
go  to  church  on  Sabbath  morning,  and  return  home  in  the 
evening.  This  is  professedly  robbing  God  of  half  his  day  ; 
but  in  truth,  of  the  whole  of  it.  What  were  the  topics  of 
conversation  on  the  Lord's-day  morning  between  you  and 
your  friend  ?  And  how  many  little  businesses  of  a  worldly 
nature  Avere  settled,  and  how  many  engagements  made,  after 
you  had  returned  from  church,  and  just  before  you  started 
for  home  ?  Ah,  you  know,  and  God  knows  it  was  not  ne- 
cessity, nor  mercy,  nor  a  desire  to  Avorship  God,  that  took 
you  there  on  his  holy  day,  but  some  worldly,  and  sinful,  and 
selfish  motive.  You  may  have  gone  to  church  to  satisfy 
your  own  wounded  conscience  ;  but  the  motives  which  took 
you  from  home  not  having  been  spiritual,  but  carnal,  it  is 
numbered  among  broken  Sabbaths,  for  which  you  must  give 
account.  And  are  you  a  2)rofessor  of  religion  who  do  this  ? 
What  an  example  do  you  set,  and  Avhat  a  stumbling-block 
do  you  make  yourself  to  others. 

But  where  are  others  ?  We  cannot  tell.  But  God  can  ; 
and  they  are  equally  in  his  presence,  and  before  him,  when 
breaking  his  holy  Sabbath,  as  when  keeping  it ;  and  he  has 
written  it  in  his  book,  and  by  and  by  he  will  inform  an  as- 
sembled world  to  their  everlasting  shame.  Perhaps  they 
are  employed  in  posting  their  accounts,  or  in  making  them 
out,  or  in  collecting  their  debts.  Perhaps  they  are  reading 
the  news  of  the  day,  or  sauntering  in  their  gardens  or  fields, 
or  riding  out  to  enjoy  country  air  and  country  scenery,  or 
entertaining  a  gay  party  of  friends  and  acquaintances,  or 
sitting  in  the  bar-room ;  or,  it  may  be,  they  are  even  now 


"WE  ARE  ALL   HERE."  3 

tossing,  in  pain  of  body  and  agony  of  mind,  upon  a  bed  of 
death,  oppressed  with  the  guilt  of  broken  Sabbaths,  and 
with  a  "  certain  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and  of  fiery 
indignation,  which  shall  devour  the  adversaries ;"  or  being 
conveyed  to  the  judgment ;  or  "  lifting  up  their  eyes  in  hell, 
being  in  torment."  For  "this  shall  be  the  portion  of  their 
cup"  "  who  know  not  God,  and  who  obey  not  the  Gospel 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  who  shall  be  punished  with  ever- 
lasting destruction  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  from 
the  glory  of  his  power."  "  How  shall  we  escape,  if  we  neg- 
lect so  great  salvation?" 

"  We  are  all  here.''  Alas,  Jiow  few  families  can  say,  in 
the  house  of  God  on  his  holy  Sabbath,  "■  We  are  all  here''' 
We  speak  not  of  those  who  are  obliged  to  stay  at  home. 
No.  Where  there  is  necessity  for  us  to  be,  there  it  is  our 
duty  to  be.  We  speak  of  those  only  who  stay  away  from 
choice.  Here  is  the  mother,  but  where  is  the  father  ?  Here 
are  the  parents ;  but,  parents,  where  are  your  children  ? 
Here  are  some  of  them,  but  where  are  the  others  ?  Parents, 
you  and  all  your  house  should  be  present  before  God  in  his 
sanctuary  on  the  Sabbath-day.  And  if,  with  your  consent, 
unrestrained  and  unwarned,  they  are  loitering  at  home,  or 
gone  on  a  visit  on  this  holy  day,  you  have  much  to  fear, 
both  for  them  and  yourselves  ;  and  much,  very  much  to 
account  for  to  God.  Of  your  family  you  ought  to  be  able, 
every  Sabbath,  to  say,  with  Cornelius,  "  Now  are  we  all 
here  present  before  God,  to  hear  all  things  commanded  thee 
of  God." 

"We  are  all  here."  Who?  All  the  members  of  the 
church?  Surely  they  can  say,  every  Sabbath-day,  "  We 
are  all  here  present."  We  mean  all  who  are  not  detained 
by  absolute  necessity.  This  is  what  ought  to  be,  and  no 
more  than  what  ought  to  be,  on  every  Sabbath-day.  But  is 
it  so  ?  Can  all  the  members  of  the  church  say  in  the  house 
of  God,  every  Sabbath-day,  when  they  could  and  ought  to 
be  there,  "We  are  all  here  present  before  God?" 

Would  to  God  it  were  so ;  but  alas,  the  assembly  of 
every  Sabbath  makes  it  manifest  that  it  is  not.  And  shall 
we  wonder  at  men  of  the  world  absentin^r  themselves  from 
the  house  of  God,  and  breaking  the  Sabbath,  and  trifling 
with  their  souls  and  eternity,  with  God,  with  the  Saviour, 
with  the  Holy  Spirit,  with  heaven  and  Avith  hell,  when  the 


4  "  WE  ARE  ALL  HERE." 

very  members  of  the  church,  by  their  example,  teach  them 
so?  0  m.embers  of  the  church,  will  you  break  your  minis- 
ters' hearts,  wound  the  minds  of  your  brethren,  and  grieve 
the  Holy  Spirit,  by  making  your  own  selves  and  your  own 
conduct  the  very  stones  upon  Avhich  multitudes  shall  stum- 
ble into  hell.  Shall  we  wonder  that  men  of  the  world  are 
absent,  when  you  are  not  present  before  God  in  his  house 
on  his  holy  day  ?  Should  not  you  be  the  light  of  the  world — 
the  guides  of  them  that  are  blind  ?  Will  you  then  cause 
darkness  to  rest  upon  all  around  you,  and  guide  those  who 
take  you  for  their  example  of  goodness  and  piety,  into  "  ever- 
lasting burnings  ?"  Are  you  not  the  only  professed  people 
of  God?  And  are  not  many  around  you  ready  to  justify 
their  own  evil  ways  by  the  lamentable  inconsistency  of  yours  ? 
While  you  live  so,  your  ministers  may  preach  and  write 
as  plainly  and  faithfully  as  angels  would,  but  they  will 
preach  in  vain  so  long  as  your  example  goes  against  the 
truth.  Your  neighbors  will  look  to  you,  and  refuse  to  hear 
them.  0  members  of  the  church  of  Christ,  wash  you,  make 
you  clean  from  this  blood  of  souls.  Be  all  of  you  present 
before  God,  in  his  house,  on  his  holy  Sabbath.  Let  no 
excuse  keep  you  back,  but  such  as  would  justify  you  before 
God  for  not  purchasing  an  estate,  or  transacting  the  most 
important  business,  at  the  appointed  time  ;  and  most  surely 
no  trifling  visit  to  a  friend,  no  impertinent  visitor  at  your 
house,  no  love  of  ease,  no  gayety  nor  society,  neither  the 
bad  state  of  the  roads,  nor  of  the  weather,  would  deter  you 
from  these.  May  they  who  read  this,  and  who  are  guilty 
of  misspending  the  holy  Sabbath,  humble  themselves  before 
God,  and  resolve,  by  his  grace,  to  "  remember  the  Sabbath- 
day  to  keep  it  holy,"  and  to  be  "  all  here,'"  in  his  house, 
"present  before  God."  If  they  do  not,  this  warning,  so 
affectionately  given,  will  witness  against  them  in  that  day 
when,  whether  they  will  it  or  not,  they  too  must  be  present 
before  God.  And  better  for  them  that  they  ''had  never 
been  born." 


PUBLISHED   BY    THE   AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


I¥o.  38S, 

HAYE  ME  EXCUSED. 


Fellow-sinner,  "  Why  will  you  die?^^  Know  you  not 
that  you  are  under  sentence  of  death  ?  "  The  soul  that  sin- 
neth,  it  shall  die."  How  can  you  escape  ?  Jesus  Christ 
ALONE  can  save  you  from  eternal  death :  ''  There  is  none 
other  name  whereby  we  must  be  saved."  Through  him 
you  may  be  saved,  if  you  will :  "  Whosoever  will,  let  him 
take  the  water  of  life  freely."  A  rich  feast  is  prepared,  and 
you  are  entreated  to  eat  and  live  for  ever :  *'  Come,  for  all 
things  are  now  ready."  Will  you  come  ?  Why  not  ?  "  7 
pray  thee  have  me  excused ^     Excused  ?     Why  ? 

1.  "I  AM  TOO  YOUNG."  Bless  God  that  you  are  young. 
"They  that  seek  me  early  shall  find  me."  If  you  are  old 
enough  to  sin,  you  are  old  enough  to  repent  of  sin.  If  you 
have  done  wrong,  you  cannot  be  sorry  for  it  too  soon.  Are 
you  old  enough  to  die  ?  Then  you  are  not  too  young  to 
prepare  for  death.  The  sooner  you  seek  God,  the  easier  it 
will  be.  That  little  twig  you  can  pull  up  with  your  thumb 
and  finger ;  soon,  the  mighty  oak  will  brave  the  storms  of 
heaven.  Wait  not  until  sin  has  twined  its  roots  around  a 
rocky  heart.  "  Remember  noiu  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of 
thy  youth,  while  the  evil  days  come  not."     "  But, 

2.  *' I  AM  TOO  FOND  OF  THE  WORLD."  And  do  you  mean 
then  to  take  your  fill  of  the  pleasures  of  the  world  before 
you  repent  ?  Will  you  give  your  best  days  to  Satan,  and  a 
miserable  fraction  of  your  life  to  God  ?  Will  you  thus  put 
off  your  Creator?  And  for  what?  For  the  merest  vanity. 
How  often,  as  you  have  returned  from  the  haunts  of  dissi- 
pation, from  the  theatre,  the  ballroom,  or  the  party  of 
pleasure,  have  you  been  forced  to  exclaim,  "  All  is  vanity 
and  vexation  of  spirit  ?"  How  often,  like  Colonel  Gardiner, 
"  the  happy  rake,"  have  you  groaned  in  the  anguish  of  your 
spirit,  and  wished  yourself  a  dog  ?  The  time  ivill  come,  if 
not  now,  when  you  will  be  sick  of  the  world.  How  will  the 
thought  of  time  thus  wasted,  then  torture  your  soul.  Why 
prepare  these  thorns  for  a  dying  pillow  ?     0,  give  up  the 


2  HAVE  ME  EXCUSED. 

world  before  it  is  torn  from  you.  *'  Beware  of  the  flat- 
terer." Let  the  empty  bubble  go.  Seek  "  fulness  of  joy," 
and  "pleasures  for  evermore."     ''But, 

3.  "Professors  are  such  gloomy  people."  All  are 
not.  Some  cannot  describe  their  joy.  All  true  Christians 
say,  that  they  never  knew  joy  until  converted.  Some  will 
tell  you,  that  they  have  had  more  happiness  in  one  hour 
since,  than  in  years  before.  Some,  indeed,  there  are,  "  hav- 
ing a  form  of  godliness,  but  denying  the  power  thereof," 
that  are  gloomy  enough.  Others  are  Laodiceans,  "  neither 
cold  nor  hot."  How  can  such  be  happy  ?  It  is  for  want 
of  piety  that  they  are  gloomy.  Let  them  enter  with  all 
their  hearts  into  the  service  of  God,  and  they  will  be  as 
happy  as  heart  can  wish.  Do  you  doubt  it  ?  Try  it. 
God's  word  for  it,  you  shall  "  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable 
and  full  of  glory."  But  it  may  be,  they  are  sad  on  your 
account.  They  see  you  dancing  on  the  very  brink  of  the 
bottomless  pit,  and  how  can  they  help  weeping  ?  Let  them 
see  you  turning  to  God,  and  their  grief  will  be  turned  to 
joy.  Will  you  turn  and  fill  the  heart  of  a  dear  parent,  per- 
haps, with  joy  ?     "  Turn  ye,  turn  ye,  for  why  will  ye  die  ?" 

4.  "  I  HAVE  NO  TIME  TO  ATTEND  TO  IT."  No  time  ?  And 
what  was  time  given  for?  To  spend  in  pleasure  ?  To  heap 
up  riches  ?  And  is  this  your  home  ?  Can  you  say,  "  Soul, 
thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many  years  ?"  God  may 
sa}^,  "  Thou  fool,  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of 
thee,"  Yes,  you  7nust  die,  and  leave  all  behind.  There  are 
treasures  in  heaven  worth  seeking.  "  Palms  of  victory, 
crowns  of  glory,"  thrones  on  high,  are  set  before  you. 
Do  you  wait  for  a  leisure  day  ?  So  did  Felix :  "  Go  thy 
way  for  this  time  ;  when  I  have  a  convenient  season  I  will 
call  for  thee."  The  convenient  season  may  never  come. 
Cares  increase  with  years.  And  if  it  should  come,  it  may 
not  be  convenient  for  God  to  attend  to  thee  then.  What 
does  that  mean  :  "  Ye  shall  seek  me,  and  shall  die  in  your 
sins  ?"     Will  you  not  take  time  to  seek  him  now  ? 

5.  "There  is  time  enough  yet."  Has  God  told  you 
that  ?  How  then  do  you  know  ?  Have  you  made  a  "  cove- 
nant with  death  ?"    It  "  shall  be  disannulled."    An  "  ao-ree- 


HAVE  ME  EXCUSED. 


ment  with  hell  ?"  It  "  shall  not  stand."  Are  you  so  sure 
that  you  have  time  enough,  that  you  can  venture  to  banish 
all  thoughts  of  your  conversion  until  a  fixed  day  ?  Why 
not,  if  there  is  time  enough  ?  Can  you  ask  God  to  let  you 
sin  as  much  as  you  wish  till  then  ?  Why  not,  if  you  have 
time  enough  ?  And  if  he  should  hear  such  a  prayer,  are 
you  sure  that  you  will  repent  when  that  day  comes  ?  Will 
it  be  any  easier  then  ?  What,  when  you  have  grown  gray 
in  sin  ?  Ask  that  old  man  if  he  has  time  enough.  "  0,  yes  ; 
time  hangs  very  heavy  on  my  hands."  Why  don't  you  then 
repent?  ''Ah,  but  my  heart  is  too  hard.  /  can't  feel. '' 
Fellow-sinner,  let  me  beg  of  you  not  to  wait  until  your 
heart  too  is  cased  in  steel.    "  'Tis  madness  to  defer,"    *'  But, 

6.    "  I  MUST  TAKE  MORE  TIME  TO  THINK  OF  IT."       To  think 

of  what  ?  Whether  the  Bible  is  true  ?  "I  know  that  thou 
believest."  Whether  you  are  a  sinner?  You  know  it. 
Whether  you  must  be  lost  forever  if  you  should  die  as  you 
are?  You  have  not  a  doubt  of  it.  Whether  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  can  save  you  ?  You  cannot  question  it.  Whether 
to  become  a  Christian  before  you  die?  You  have  "no 
thought  of  dying"  as  you  are.  What  then?  "Why,  to 
know  whether  I  had  better  make  it  all  sure  nowT  But  you 
are  sinking  into  the  burning  pit.  The  flames  are  spreading 
all  around  you.  Soon  escape  will  be  impossible.  There  is 
but  a  step  between  thee  and  death.  How  can  you  escape 
too  soon  ?  Would  you  ever  have  any  reason  to  be  sorry  for 
it,  if  you  should  become  a  Christian  this  moment  ?  Then 
why  delay  another  moment  ? 

Y.  "  I  AM  NOT  so  BAD  AS  OTHERS."  That  may  be.  But 
why  ?  It  is  sovereign  grace  that  has  kept  you  from  being 
a  vile  reprobate.  And  will  you  make  that  very  grace  a 
reason  for  continuing  in  sin  ?  Are  these  your  thanks  ?  0, 
why  does  God  forbear  to  strike  ?  But  you  are  bad  enough. 
The  very  best  sinner  on  earth  is  too  bad  for  heaven.  If 
you  could  plead,  "  /  have  sinned  hut  once,''  it  would  not 
save  you.  One  sin  ruined  Adam.  "  Cursed  is  every  one 
that  continueth  not  in  all  things  which  are  written  in  the 
book  of  the  law  to  do  them."  After  all,  you  are  worse  than 
you  will  allow.  Let  but  God  pour  the  light  of  eternity 
upon  your  naked  heart,  and  you  will  wish  for  the  deepest 


4  HAVE  3IE  EXCUSED. 

darkness  in  which  to  hide  3^ourself,  0,  that  you  would  even 
now  crv  o.ut,  "  I  am  the  very  chief  of  sinners."  Then  there 
would  be  some  hope.  With  the  publican  you  might  plead, 
''  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner ;"  and  with  him  be  freely 
justified.  Do  you,  then,  give  up  this  plea?  If  so,  what 
have  you  yet  to  say  ? 

8.  "  I  HAVE  NOT  MUCH  CONCERN."  And  do  you  suppose 
that  this  relieves  your  case  at  all  ?  Your  indifference — 
what  is  it  but  a  contempt  of  God  ?  He  calls  you  to  him,  but 
you  heed  the  idle  wind  as  much.  If  your  friend  should 
serve  you  so,  how  it  would  cut  you  to  the  heart.  But  why 
complain  of  so  cold  a  heart  ?  Go  and  stand  all  night  in  the 
winter's  storm — will  you  be  warm  ?  Refuse,  though  nearly 
frozen  to  death,  to  come  or  be  brought  to  the  fire — whose 
fault  will  it  be  if  you  perish  ?  You  have  done  this  already. 
It  is  a  wonder  that  you  are  not  *•  past  feeling."  Come  to 
Christ  before  it  is  all  over  with  you. 

9.  "  I  MUST  WAIT  TILL  God's  TIME  HAS  COME."       Are  yOU 

in  earnest  ?  Do  you  doubt  whether  God  is  ready  to  melt 
your  heart  ?  Why,  then,  all  that  uneasiness — that  sense  of 
sin  and  of  danger  ?  It  is  his  Spirit  that  convinces  of  sin. 
What  voice  is  that,  that  whispers  so  often  in  thy  soul, 
"Turn,  sinner,  turn?"  It  is  the  Spirit's  gracious  voice. 
He  tells  you  to  "come,  for  all  things  are  noiv  ready."  He 
says,  "  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock ;  if  any  man 
hear  my  voice,  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him." 
God's  time  to  save  is  when  you  seek.  "  Ye  shall  seek  me 
and  find  me,  when  ye  shall  search  for  me  with  all  your 
heart."  Ask  the  Christian,  if  God  was  not  ready  the  very 
moment  that  he  himself  was  ready.  You  are  waiting  your 
own  time.  God  stretches  out  his  hands  all  the  day  long, 
and  you  flee  from  him.  He  follows  you ;  tracks  you 
through  every  lane  of  life,  even  to  your  most  secret  retreats. 
And  yet  you  say,  "  I  must  wait  God's  time."  Shame  on 
you  !  How  can  you  treat  so  kind  a  Saviour  thus.  O,  fall 
at  his  feet  and  beg  for  mercy.     "  But, 

10.  "Professors  are  just  about  as  bad  as  others." 
But  what  does  this  prove  ?  That  they  have  too  much  relig- 
ion, or  not  enough  ?     The   Saviour  tells  us  that  there  will 


HAVE  ME  EXCUSED.  5 

be  many  such,  to  whom  he  will  say  in  the  last  day,  "  I  never 
knew  you."  But  are  all  so'l  You  know  better.  Some 
are  the  very  salt  of  the  earth.  No  one  asks  you  to  be  a 
hypocrite.  If  you  know  so  well  how  Christians  ought  to 
live,  come  and  show  us  by  your  example.  But  will  many 
be  deceived  ?  Then  "  strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate  : 
for  many  will  seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall  not  be  able." 
Take  care  that  you  are  not  of  this  wretched  class.  Be  in 
earnest.  "  Do  with  your  might.  Work  while  it  is  day." 
You  may  be  left  out.     Come,  and  go  with  us.     "  But, 

11.  "There  are  so  many  sects,  I  don't  know  which 
rs  RIGHT."  However  that  may  be,  you  know  that  you  be- 
long to  a  lorong  sect  now.  No  sect  is  so  wrong  as  the  un- 
godly. Forsake  them  as  soon  as  you  can  for  the  sect  of  the 
righteous.  They  all  belong  to  one  class,  though  scattered 
among  many  denominations.  First,  be  sure  that  you  are 
among  them.  Christians  do  not  differ  as  much  as  you  think. 
They  all  agree  in  loyalty  to  the  King  of  heaven,  the  Saviour 
of  the  world.  Yield  to  him  your  heart ;  take  his  word  for 
tlie  man  of  your  counsel ;  obey  the  teachings,  and  follow 
the  leadings  of  his  Holy  Spirit ;  then  you  cannot  go  astray. 
"■  If  any  man  will  do  his  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine 
whether  it  be  of  God." 

12.  "  I  can't  change  my  own  heart."  "  Without  me," 
said  Christ,  "ye  can  do  nothing."  But  have  you,  then, 
nothing  to  do  ?  Regeneration  is,  indeed,  the  work  of  the 
Spirit,  But  can  you  not  seek  the  Holy  Spirit  ?  God  has 
promised  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him.  And  when 
the  Spirit  comes,  have  you  then  nothing  to  do  ?  Hear : 
"  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling, 
FOR  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do 
of  his  good  pleasure."  You  are  not  to  do  the  Spirit's  work, 
but  your  own.  There  is  a  work  which  can  be  done  only 
by  yourself.  You  cannot  believe,  repent,  and  obey,  by 
'proxy,  God  will  not  do  your  work  for  you,  though  he 
works  in  you  to  do.  If  the  Spirit,  then,  does  not  work,  you 
are  lost.  And  if  you  do  not  work,  you  are  lost.  When 
both  work  together,  you  will  be  saved.  Do  you  still  plead, 
"  I  can  do  nothing?"  Then  I  would  ask,  Can  you  not yive 
'up  the  controversy  with  God  ?     A  garrison  may  not  be  able 

VOL.  X,  22 


6  HAVE  ME  EXCUSED. 

to  hold  out,  but  surely  they  are  able  to  surrender.  Are 
you,  then,  willing  to  make  a  full  surrender?     "  But, 

13.  **  If  I  AM  TO   BE  SAVED,  I  SHALL  BE  SAVED,  DO  WHAT 

I  WILL."  And  now,  dear  friend,  be  consistent,  and  say, 
"  If  I  am  to  live,  I  shall  live,  do  what  I  will,"  and  so  give 
up  eating  and  toiling  for  food.  Your  duty  has  nothing  to 
do  with  God's  purposes.  For  them  God  only  is  responsi- 
ble. Your  duty  is  to  love  and  serve  him  Avith  all  your 
heart.  If  you  do  it,  you  will  be  saved.  Election  hinders 
no  one  :  its  only  influence  is  to  save.  It  is  God's  unaltera- 
ble purpose  to  save  every  believer.  He  that  believeth  shall 
be  saved.  The  sooner  you  believe,  the  sooner  you  will  know 
whether  heaven  is  your  portion.  You  can  never  know  it  in 
any  other  way.     Will  you  believe  ? 

14.  "1  HAVE  NOT  CONVICTION  ENOUGH."  Do  you  cer- 
tainly  know  that  you  are  a  sinner  ?  That  is  conviction. 
Can  nothing  make  you  more  certain  of  it  ?  Then  you  can- 
not have  more  conviction  of  that  truth.  Are  you  positively 
certain  that  you  must  perish  imless  you  believe  in  Christ  ? 
Then  Avhat  need  of  more  conviction  ?  Do  you  wait  for  more 
distress  ?  Distress  is  neither  conviction,  nor  the  necessary 
fruit  of  conviction.  Let  the  sinner  cease  struo^fflins^  with 
the  Holy  Ghost,  and  yield  to  conviction,  and  his  trouble 
will  be  gone.  But  conviction  does  not  melt  the  heart.  The 
devils  believe,  but  do  not  love.  If  you  perish,  you  will 
have  conviction  enough  in  hell,  but  it  will  not  soften  your 
heart.  Wait,  then,  no  longer  for  more  conviction.  Yield 
at  once.     "  If  I  should, 

15.  "  What  will  they  say  of  me  ?"  "  What  is  that  to 
thee  ?  Follow  thou  me,"  saith  Christ.  Let  them  say  what 
they  will.  Follow  your  own  convictions.  None  of  them 
can  answer  for  you  in  the  judgment.  "  Every  man  shall 
bear  his  own  burden."  Your  dearest  friend  cannot  take 
your  place  "■  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ."  Why, 
then,  be  governed  by  what  they  say  ?  Ask,  rather,  what 
will  God  say.  What  will  they  say  !  Every  one,  whose 
words  are  worth  minding,  will  say,  "You  did  well."  The 
worldling  may  sneer,  but  can  say  nothing  to  hurt  you. 
Christians  will  say  all  they  can  to  help  you.     And  Christ 


HAVE  ME  EXCUSED.  7 

will  say  at  last,  before  men,  angels  and  devils,  "  Well  done, 
good  and  faithful  servant ;  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy 
Lord."  And  now  what  will  you  say  ?  Are  you  ready  to 
give  up  all  for  the  blessed  Redeemer  ? 

16.  "  I  AM  AFRAID  I  SHALL  NOT  PERSEVERE."    YoU  never 

will,  of  course,  unless  you  make  a  beginning.  The  first 
STEP  is  the  great  difficulty.  Practice  always  makes  duty 
easier.  Your  only  duty  is  the  duty  of  the  present  moment. 
The  next  is  yet  in  eternity,  and  there  you  and  I  may  soon 
be.  Do  present  duty,  and  trust  God's  grace  for  future 
duty.  He  has  said,  "  My  grace  shall  be  sufficient  for  thee. 
Take,  therefore,  no  thought  for  the  morrow,  for  the  morrow 
shall  take  thought  for  the  things  of  itself."  Millions,  as 
weak  as  yourself,  have  by  God's  grace  persevered,  and  are 
now  in  heaven.  "  Whose  faith  follow."  Make,  then,  a 
beginning  now.     What  say  you?     ''Alas, 

17.  "I    HAVE  DONE  ALL  THAT  I  COULD."       All    that   yOU 

could  ?  What,  spent  all  your  time  ?  Sought  with  all  your 
heart  and  soul,  mind  and  strength  ?  All  that  you  could  ? 
Why,  you  have  done  more  in  one  month  for  your  poor 
house  of  clay,  than  in  all  your  life  for  your  precious  soul. 
All  that  you  could  ?  Have  you  forsaken  every  sin  ?  Are 
you  doing  every  duty  ?  Have  you  come  out  from  the 
world  ?  Have  you  given  yourself,  soul  and  body,  to  Christ? 
Have  you  made  a  full  surrender  ?  "  Ah,  I  fear  not."  Do 
it  then  now.  Be  in  earnest.  Time  flies.  While  you  read 
you  are  hasting  to  the  grave.     Why  hesitate  ? 

18.  "I  HAVE  BEEN  SUCH  A  GREAT  SINNER,  THAT    I  FEAR 

HE  WILL  NOT  RECEIVE  ME."  Not  receivc  you?  Who  told 
you  so?  He  says,  "I  will  give  you  rest."  What  right 
have  you  to  question  it  ?  Take  him  at  his  word.  Are  you 
worse  than  Saul  of  Tarsus,  or  Mary  Magdalen,  or  the  thief 
on  the  cross  ?  He  says,  "  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet, 
they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow."  Are  you  worse  than 
those  who  crucified  him  ?  For  them  he  spent  his  latest 
breath,  pleading,  "  Father,  forgive  them."  Are  you  a  great 
sinner  noiu  ?  You  will  be  a  greater  sinner  to-morrow.  But 
how  do  you  know  that  lie  will  not  receive  you  ?  "  Him 
that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."     Have  you 


8  HAVE  ME  EXCUSED. 

been  cast  out  ?  Has  any  one  else  ?  Never,  What  more 
do  you  want  ?  You  have  his  word  for  it,  and  the  testimony 
of  all  that  have  come  to  him.  Try  him  yourself.  Try  now. 
Will  you  come  to  him  ? 

19.  "I  AM  AFRAID  THAT  I  HAVE  COMMITTED  THE  UNPAR- 
DONABLE SIN,"  Is  the  Spirit  now  striving  with  you?  Are 
you  troubled  about  your  guilt  and  duty  ?  Are  you  anxious 
for  the  favor  of  God  ?  If  so,  then  the  Spirit  has  not  yet 
taken  his  final  leave.  He  is  yet  striving  to  bring  you  to 
Christ.  Look  up,  then,  poor  sinner,  there  is  mercy  for 
you.  When  you  shall  have  committed  that  sin,  you  will 
be  given  over  to  blindness  of  mind,  to  hardness  of  heart, 
perhaps  "to  believe  a  lie."  By  all  the  horrors  of  that  sin, 
which  shall  never  be  forgiven,  I  entreat  you,  '^  Quench  not 
the  Spirit."     Yield  while  yet  you  may.     Why  not  ? 

20.  "  I  HAVE  PUT  IT  OFF  SO  LONG."  Then  put  it  off  no 
longer.  He  does  not  ask,  "  How  long  have  you  sinned  ?" 
but,  "  Are  you  now  willing  to  forsake  sin,  to  trust  in  my 
blood,  and  to  serve  me  ?"  If  so,  you  may  be,  you  will  be 
saved.  Yes,  even  at  the  eleventh  hour.  0,  then,  flee  to 
his  arms.  Cast  yourself  at  his  feet.  Delay  not  a  moment. 
If  you  perish,  perish  at  his  feet  and  nowhere  else.  You  can 
hut  perish  if  you  go. 

And  noAv,  fellow- sinner,  what  have  you  yet  to  plead  ? 
Any  more  excuses  ?  None,  Then  surely  you  will  halt  no 
longer,  "  All  things  are  now  ready,"  The  Saviour  waits 
to  wash  you  in  his  blood.  The  Father,  to  receive  the 
long-lost  child  to  his  arms.  The  Spirit,  to  enter  in  and 
purify  your  heart.  The  angels  are  waiting  to  bear  the  glad 
news  of  your  conversion  to  heaven.  "  All  things  are  now 
ready.''  And  you  are  ready.  Are  you  not?  *' 0,  yes; 
*  'Tis  Jesus  calls  ;  I  must — I  will — I  can — I  do  believe 
Then  kneel  down.      Give  yourself  to  Christ,     Say, 

"  Thee,  my  new  Master  now  I  call, 
And  consecrate  to  thee  my  all ; 
Lord,  let  me  live  and  die  to  thee, 
Be  thine  through  all  eternity." 


>  >> 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE   AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


jVo.  383. 

CONVERSION  OF  AN  AGED  DEIST. 

A  NARRATIVE    OF    FACTS. 


In  the  spring  and  summer  of  1881,  the  beautiful  village 

of  A ,  in  Georgia,  was  favored  with  a  most  interesting 

and  powerful  revival  of  religion.  As  usual,  in  such  seasons, 
most  of  the  subjects  of  the  good  work  were  the  young- 
many  of  them  young  men  attached  to  the  literary  institution 
in  that  place.  But  there  were  some  exceptions.  A  few  in 
middle  life  were  hopefully  converted ;  and  the  case  of  one 
aged  man  excited  a  deep  and  universal  intei-est. 

Mr.  N P ,  though  the  child  of  pious  parents, 

and  trained  under  the  influence  of  a  godly  mother,  at  mid- 
dle age  was  surrounded  by  infidels,  and  through  the  read- 
ing of  a  popular  infidel  work,  became  a  settled  Deist.  He 
viewed  the  Bible  as  a  fiction,  and  believed  that  death  was 
an  eternal  sleep.  For  tkirtT/  years  preceding  his  conversion, 
he  was,  probably,  one  of  the  most  confirmed,  undoubting 
Deists  to  be  found  in  the  world.  His  sceptical  sentiments, 
however,  were  cautiously  and  prudently  concealed,  even 
from  his  own  family,  not  a  member  of  which  knew  that  he 
was  tinctured  with  infidelity.  After  he  became  a  settled 
unbeliever,  and  before  removing  from  Virginia  to  Georgia, 
he  divulged  his  sentiments  to  an  intimate  friend,  whom  he 
knew  to  possess  similar  views.  That  friend,  after  hearing 
him,  notwithstanding  the  coincidence  of  their  sentiments, 
seriously  charged  him  never  again  to  open  his  lips  upon 
that  subject  to  a  human  being.  With  this  injunction 
Mr.  P.,  it  is  believed,  strictly  comphed,  until  the  happy 
change  took  place  which  will  now  be  related.  Though 
VOL.  X.  2i2* 


2  CONVERSION  OF  AN  AGED  DEIST. 

three  or  four  of  his  sons  and  daughters  became  worthy 
members  of  the  Presbyterian  church,  yet  the  father  uni- 
formly maintained  profound  silence  upon  the  subject  of 
religion,  and  never  appeared  to  be  disposed  to  throw  the 
least  obstacle  in  the  way  of  its  pursuit  and  practice  by  his 
family. 

He  was,  however,  a  settled,  deliberate,  silent  Deist ; 
slumbering,  unconscious  of  his  danger,  upon  the  very  brink 
of  eternal  ruin.  He  was  frequently  warned  by  the  loud 
admonitions  of  divine  Providence.  He  had  followed  to  the 
tomb  a  beloved  wife,  a  grown  son,  and  a  married  daughter ; 
he  had  repeatedly  been  brought,  apparently,  to  the  very 
verge  of  the  grave ;  and  when  thus  sinking  under  the 
ravages  of  disease,  and  kindly  exhorted  by  friends  to  make 
his  peace  with  God,  that  he  might  be  prepared  for  his  de- 
parture, he  would  calmly  reply,  that  he  was  not  in  the  least 
uneasy,  that  he  had  no  doubt  that  all  would  he  well  after 
death. 

The  year  1831  arrived,  and  the  old  Deist  was  yet  alive, 
in  health,  and  as  hard  as  the  adamant.  Time  with  him 
was  now  far  spent ;  the  day  of  life,  in  the  course  of  nature^ 
was  rapidly  drawing  to  a  close ;  the  shadows  of  death  and 
of  the  tomb  were  gathering  around  him,  and  yet  the  aged 
slumberer  did  not  awake.  The  spiritual  sleep  of  seventy 
years,  and  the  opiate  of  deism  had  paralyzed  all  his  moral 
energies  ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  could  awaken  him 
but  the  voice  of  the  archangel.  But  a  gracious  God  had 
mercy  in  store  for  him  Avho,  during  thirty  years,  had  viewed 
the  story  of  the  cross  as  a  cunningly  devised  fable. 

On  a  pleasant  day,  as  Mr.  P.  was  walking  alone  upon 
his  plantation,  he  heard  the  voice  of  prayer.  He  listened. 
It  was  the  voice  of  one  of  his  servants,  a  pious  old  negro, 
who  was  holding  communion  with  his  God,  alone  in  the 
grove.     The  master,  without  disturbing  the  praying  ser- 


CONVERSION  OF  AN  AGED  DEIST.  3 

vant,  walked  to  the  house  in  a  reflecting  mood.  He  knew 
not  why,  but  he  was  disturbed — he  felt  unhappy.  His 
foundation  now  trembled  a  little,  though  it  had  lain  un- 
moved, in  the  hard  cement  of  infidelity,  for  thirty  years. 
Without  saying  a  word  to  any  one,  he  took  up  "  Fletcher's 
Appeal,"  and  read  it.  His  uneasiness  increased,  though 
he  was,  as  yet,  by  no  means  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the 
Scriptures. 

About  this  time  his  youngest  daughter,  who  was  pious, 
was  inquiring  in  the  bookstore  for  a  devotional  book  which 
had  been  recommended  to  her  by  her  pas|or.  The  book 
not  being  in  the  store,  the  gentleman  in  attendance  handed 
her  "Watson's  Answer  to  Paine,"  saying,  as  he  put  it  into 
her  hands,  "  Mr.  H.,  your  pastor,  says  this  is  a  very  excel- 
lent book."  She  knew  nothing  of  the  nature  of  the  work; 
but  as  she  had  failed  to  obtain  the  book  desired,  and  this 
little  volume  had  been  recommended  by  the  same  friend, 
she  bought  it.  When  she  retired  from  the  store,  and  began 
to  read  the  book,  she  felt  disappointed,  and  remarked  to  a 
female  friend  that  she  would  return  it,  as  it  was  a  treatise 
against  infidelity,  for  which  they  had  no  special  use  in  their 
family.  But  as  God  in  his  providence  kindly  ordered  it, 
the  book  was  not  returned.  The  young  lady  carried  it  home, 
and  having  laid  it  by,  probably  neither  said  nor  thought 
more  of  it.  But  the  unbelievincc  father,  who  knew  nothino- 
of  "Watson's  Answer  to  Paine,"  and  did  not  suspect  that 
such  a  book  was  in  the  house,  happened  one  day  to  lay  his 
hands  upon  it.  He  sat  down  and  deliberately  read  it  through. 
And  now  his  castle  of  infidelity,  which  had  been  trembling 
for  some  weeks  under  the  gentle  breezes  of  the  divine 
Spirit,  was  so  utterly  demolished  that  not  one  stone  was 
left  upon  another — all  was  in  ruins.  He  stated  to  the  writer, 
that  when  he  had  finished  reading  Watson,  he  was  prepared 
to  say  that  he  believed  every  word  of  the  Bible  to  be  true. 


4  CONVERSION  OF  AN  AGED  DEIST. 

About  this  time  a  series  of  public  religious  meetings 
was  commenced,  which  were  signally  blessed  of  God,  and 
were  continued  in  the  different  churches  for  about  three 
weeks.  Mr.  P.  at  first  attended  with  his  family,  but  per- 
ceiving that  his  concealed  mental  distress  was  increased,  he 
refused  to  attend  more. 

As  the  good  work  of  the  Lord  advanced  powerfully, 
and  many  stout  hearts  were  made  to  yield  to  the  subduing 
influences  of  divine  grace,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Mr.  P.,  a 
lady  of  ardent  piety,  could  not  endure  her  father's  absence 
from  the  house. of  God.  Returning  one  day  from  the  sol- 
emn services  of  the  sanctuary,  which  was  about  two  miles 
distant,  she  related  to  her  father  some  interesting  facts 
which  had  occurred  relative  to  the  conversion  of  other 
citizens,  and  then  entreated  him  to  accompany  a  member 
of  the  family  that  night  to  the  meeting.  The  old  gentle- 
man, whose  burden  was  already  as  great  as  he  knew  how 
to  bear,  almost  sunk  under  this  affectionate  but  embarrass- 
ing request.  He  threw  himself  upon  the  bed,  complained 
of  indisposition,  lay  a  short  time,  and  then  arose,  and,  with 
a  firm  step,  Avalked  away  from  his  house,  and  out  of  sight 
of  all  his  family,  intending,  probably,  not  to  return  until  it 
should  be  too  late  for  him  to  accompany  them  to  the  even- 
ing service.  But  the  daughter,  who  was  strong  in  faith, 
had  every  necessary  preparation  made  for  her  father  to 
attend  church.  At  an  early  hour  tea  was  prepared,  the 
carriage  was  at  the  door,  and  all  things  were  ready  ;  but 
still  the  father  did  not  come.  She  anxiously  waited,  she 
looked,  she  prayed,  and  still  dared  to  beheve,  notwithstand- 
ing the  long  absence  of  her  father,  that  he  would  return 
and  go  that  night  to  the  house  of  God. 

She  was  not  disappointed.  Just  before  nightfall  Mr.  P. 
returned,  and  in  silent  agony,  took  his  seat  in  the  carriage, 
and  rode  to  the  village  to  attend  service.     There  the  Spirit 


CONVERSION  OF  AN  AGED  DEIST.  5 

of  God  met  him  on  that  memorable  night,  and  made  fur- 
ther discoveries  to  him  of  his  lost,  his  ruined  condition. 
The  Bible  Avas  now  no  longer  a  fable,  but  a  record  of  the 
most  solemn,  momentous  truths.  He  found  that  he  had  a 
soul  destined  to  immortality,  and,  without  speedy  redemp- 
tion, to  endless  and  hopeless  perdition.  His  dreams  of 
annihilation  fled ;  he  saw  that  he  was  condemned  by  God's 
righteous  and  holy  law,  while,  as  yet,  the  Saviour  was  not 
revealed  to  his  sinking,  desponding  soul.  He  reflected 
that  once  a  godly  mother  had  wept  over  him,  and  prayed 
for  him.  But  she  could  do  this  no  more,  for  she  had  long 
been  with  angels  and  with  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect  before  the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb.  The 
voice  of  conscience  he  had  hushed  a  thousand  times ;  the 
counsels  of  pious  parents,  and  the  affectionate  entreaties  of 
Christian  brothers  and  sisters  he  had  neglected,  till  seventy 
years  had  rolled  over  his  head ;  and  now,  when  awakened 
to  a  sense  of  his  condition,  he  seemed  to  view  himself  as 
an  outcast,  ruined,  and  undone  for  ever.  His  distress  was 
truly  awful. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  he  appeared  in  a 
prayer-meeting.  An  atheist  could  not  have  looked  upon 
him  there  without  emotion.  He  said  but  little,  while  to 
every  spectator  it  was  evident  that  his  bosom  was  the  seat 
of  distress  and  agonies  not  easily  described.  This  darkness 
was  the  harbinger  of  a  bright,  a  glorious  day.  Soon,  he 
who  had  been  wandering  a  spiritual  maniac  among  the 
tombs  of  infidelity  for  thirty  years,  was  seen  sitting,  clothed 
and  in  his  riorht  mind,  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  The  chanofe 
was  great,  glorious,  and  visible  to  all. 

On  the  very  first  night  after  he  had  obtained  peace  of 
mind,  Mr.  P.,  in  broken  accents,  commenced  worship  in  his 
family ;  and  from  that  hour,  during  the  remaining  five 
years  of  his  life,  even  to  his  last  illness,  there  never  was  a 


6  CONVERSION  OF  AN  AGED  DEIST. 

day  when  business  was  so  pressing  that  he  could  not  find 
time  to  bow  Avith  his  household  around  the  family  altar. 
Whatever  else  was  omitted,  that  duty  was  not  neglected. 

But  his  fidelity  as  a  Christian  was  not  limited  to  the 
discharge  of  any  one  duty.  His  whole  life,  walli,  and  con- 
versation, from  the  time  of  his  conversion  to  the  day  of  his 
death  in  1836,  were  remarkably  consistent,  circumspect, 
and  holy.  The  writer  has  been  long  in  the  ministry,  and 
has  mingled  much  among  Christians  of  different  denomina- 
tions, and  he  knows  not  that  he  has  ever  met  a  more  holy 
and  devoted  Christian  than  was  Mr.  P.  during  the  last  five 
years  of  his  life.  In  a  few  weeks  after  his  conversion,  he 
who  had  been  "  born  when  he  was  old,"  in  company  with 
forty  others,  most  of  them  young  people,  came  forward 
and  united  with  the  church,  with  which  his  connection  con- 
tinued until  he  was  called  to  join  the  church  triumphant. 

His  earthly  pilgrimage  was  closed  in  a  most  calm  and 
peaceful  manner.  Very  soon  after  the  attack  of  the  dis- 
ease which  terminated  his  life,  he  seemed  to  be  strongly 
impressed  with  the  idea  that  he  should  never  recover.  He 
said  that  he  had  no  desire  to  live  any  longer;  that  he  was 
dead  to  the  world ;  that  his  peace  was  made  with  God, 
and  he  was  ready  to  go  home.  He  spoke  of  his  approach- 
ing dissolution  with  the  utmost  calmness  and  resignation. 
Just  before  he  died,  he  requested  one  of  his  sons  to  sing 
the  hymn, 

"  Why  should  we  start,  and  fear  to  die  ? 
What  tim'rous  worms  we  mortals  are : 
Death  is  the  gate  of  endless  joy, 
And  yet  we  dread  to  enter  there. 

Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed 

Feel  soft  as  downy  pillows  are, 
While  on  his  breast  I  lean  my  head. 

And  breathe  my  life  out  sweetly  there." 


CONVERSION  OF  AN  AGED  DEIST.  7 

He  also  requested  his  son  to  pray  with  him.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  he  was  calmly  waiting  for  the  hour  of  his  depart- 
ure, which  soon  arrived,  when  he  cheerfully  bade  farewell 
to  weeping  friends,  and  sweetly  slept  in  Jesus. 

A  few  thoughts  are  suggested  by  this  narrative. 

1.  Though  it  is  a  solemn  fact,  that  very  few  are  con- 
verted at  the  advanced  age  of  Mr.  P.,  yet  we  do  wrong  to 
give  iqy  the  aged,  impenitent  sinner,  as  if  he  were  certainly 
doomed  to  eternal  woe.  Were  ministers  and  Christians  to 
do  their  whole  duty  to  old,  gray-headed  sinners,  would  not 
more  of  them,  by  the  grace  of  God,  be  brought  in  at  the 
eleventh  hour  ? 

2.  How  dangerous  is  it,  especially  for  an  unguarded 
youth,  to  read  corrupt  books.  The  perusal  of  one  small 
volume  was  the  means  of  confirming  Mr.  P.  in  deism.  Let 
the  youth  of  our  land  be  on  their  guard.  Let  them  be  as 
conscientious  and  particular  in  the  choice  of  their  books,  as 
they  should  be  in  the  choice  of  their  company. 

3.  How  easy  is  it  for  God  to  render  the  smallest  inci- 
dent the  means  of  effectually  awakening  the  most  stupid, 
hardened  sinner.  Who  Avould  have  imagined  that  he  who, 
through  the  days  of  childhood  and  youth,  had  resisted  the 
powerful  influence  of  parental  piety ;  who,  in  a  Christian 
land,  had  remained  seventy  years  unmoved  by  a  preached 
Gospel ;  who  had  witnessed  the  conversion  of  three  or  four 
of  his  ovfXi  children ;  had  been  repeatedly  admonished  by 
the  most  alarming  providences ;  and  who  for  thirty  years 
had  been  a  confirmed  Deist,  should  have  been  aroused  from 
his  deep  spiritual  sleep  by  the  distant,  broken  accents  of 
a  praying  negro  ?  Truly,  the  ways  of  the  Almighty  are 
wonderful,  and  past  finding  out.  Had  the  daughter  of  Mr. 
P.,  who  purchased  ''Watson's  Answer  to  Paine,"  returned 
the  little  volume  to  the  bookstore,  as  she  was  half  deter- 
mined to  do,  to  human  view  the  loss  to  the  father  mio-ht 


e  CONVERSION  OF  AN  AGED  DEIST. 

have  been  infinite.     '*  Behold  how  great  a  matter  a  little 
fire  kindleth." 

4.  Let  pious  parents,  in  humble  reliance  upon  the  di- 
vine blessing,  labor  faithfully  and  zealously  for  the  salva- 
tion of  their  children.  Let  them,  like  the  pious  mother  of 
Mr.  P.,  sow  the  good  seed  in  the  morning,  and  in  the 
evening  withhold  not  their  hand,  as  they  know  not  which 
shall  prosper,  either  this  or  that;  or  whether  they  both 
shall  be  alike  good. 

Though  this  mother  in  Israel  did  not  live  to  witness  the 
answer  to  her  fervent  prayers  in  the  conversion  of  her  son 
N. ;  though  she  was  called  to  the  rewards  of  the  righteous, 
leaving  him  a  hardened  unbeliever,  still  walking  towards 
perdition ;  though  seventy  years  had  rolled  over  his  head, 
and  he  was  still  found  not  only  an  impenitent  sinner,  but  a 
confirmed  Deist ;  yet  the  happy  day  at  length  arrived  when 
God  remembered  his  covenant  with  his  chosen.  The  prayer 
of  faith  is  answered  at  last.  The  joyful  tidings  are  com- 
municated to  "  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the 
first-born  " — ''Another  sinner  has  repented."  The  angels 
rejoice  anew,  and  in  holy  ecstasies  of  love,  it  may  be,  report 
to  the  glorified  mother,  "  Behold,  thy  son,  who  was  dead, 
is  alive  again ;  he  who  was  lost,  is  found." 


PUBLISHED   BY  THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


No.   384. 

THE 


DAY  OF  TRIAL. 


It  is  said  of  an  illustrious  queen  of  England,  that,  when 
dying,  her  agonizing  language  was,  Millions  of  worlds — 
millions  of  worlds  for  another  day  of  probation  !  She  felt 
that  she  could  not  "  stand  in  the  judgment."  And  can  any- 
impenitent  sinner  stand  in  that  day  of  trial  ? 

All  the  testimony  will  be  against  him.  His  com- 
panions in  sin  will  testify  against  him.  Sinners,  in  this 
world,  encourage  one  another  in  transgression ;  and  if  one. 
is  arrested,  his  associates  may  swear  falsely  to  save  him. 
But,  at  the  tribunal  of  God,  every  mouth  that  would  justify 
sin  will  be  stopped.  The  false  swearer,  the  liar,  will  feel  it 
utterl}^  impossible  to  evade  Omniscience.  Thus  every  sin- 
ner will  be  constrained  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth,  even 
though  it  expose  his  nearest  companions  to  ''shame  and 
everlasting  contempf.^^ 

The  exami^les  of  the  righteous  will  also  testify  against 
him.  He  will  not  be  able  to  plead  that  he  could  not  help 
continuing  in  sin  ;  that  he  was  urged  on  by  a  fatal  necessity ; 
for  he  will  see  that  others,  who  were  once  of  like  disposi- 
tions, have  repented,  and  have  broken  oflf  their  iniquities  by 
turning  unto  the  Lord. 

His  own  awakened  conscience  and  memory  will  testify 

against  him.     Conscience  may  now  slumber.     The  sinner 

may  impiously  say,  "  Where  is  the  promise  of  his  coming  ? 

What  profit  shall  we  have  if  we  pray  unto  him  ?"     But  very 

different  will  be  his  reflections  on  another  day.     When  the 
VOL.  X.  23 


THE  DAY  OF  TRIAL. 


slumbers  of  death  are  broken,  and  the  terrors  of  judgment 
burst  upon  the  view,  then,  too,  will  the  slumbers  of  con- 
science be  broken,  and  heart-rending  convictions  fill  the 
mind.  Conscience  will  then  testify  how  you  here  stifled 
conviction,  resisted  the  truth,  grieved  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Memory,  too,  will  on  that  day  be  amazingly  quickened. 
All  the  privileges  you  have  abused,  and  all  the  millions  of 
your  now  forgotten  sins,  of  thought,  word,  and  deed,  will 
come  up  in  terrible  array  before  you.  0,  what  an  immense, 
dark,  thick  cloud,  to  break  at  once  in  thunder  on  the  con- 
science !  And  will  not  conscience  thus  be  roused  to  fury, 
and  declare  you  verily  guilty  ?     But  more. 

The  sufferings  of  Christ  will  testify  against  the  sinner 
at  the  judgment.  That  same  Jesus  who  hung  on  the  cross, 
will  then  fill  the  throne.  But  0,  how  changed !  His  coun- 
tenance, once  marred,  now  glorious  as  ten  thousand  suns 
shining  in  their  strength.  His  very  appearance  will  say 
with  emphasis,  These  arr)is  were  once  extended  for  your  sal- 
vation— for  sinners  like  you,  this  head  was  crowned  u)ith 
thorns — this  body  and  soul  bore  the  tremendous  weight  of  a 
ivo7'ld's  redemption.  And  this  exhibition  will  furnish  over- 
whelming proof  of  the  ingratitude  and  guilt  of  him  whom 
such  love  could  not  melt. 

All  the  instructions  of  Christ  will  also  testify  against 
him.  "  He  that  rejecteth  me,  and  receiveth  not  my  words, 
hath  one  that  judgeth  him  ;  the  word  that  I  have  spoken, 
the  same  shall  judge  him  in  the  last  day."  Yes,  these 
glorious  truths  of  the  Saviour  will  be  as  noonday  splendors, 
to  render  his  ingratitude  the  more  manifest — his  persever- 
ance in  sin  perfectly  inexcusable,  and  his  damnation  just. 

But  cannot  the  law  be  set  aside,  and  the  sinner  thus 
escape?     "God  is  the  Judge,"  and  he  cannot  set  aside 


THE  DAY  OF  TRIAL.  3 

his  own  law.  And  when  He  shall  exhibit  its  infinite  purity 
in  contrast  with  the  sinner's  vileness,  then  the  poor  wretch, 
if  he  have  no  Saviour  to  plead  for  him,  must  feel  that  he  is 
indeed  undone  for  ever.     But, 

He  will  have  no  Advocate.  At  a  human  tribunal, 
when  the  culprit  is  arraigned,  though  all  the  witnesses  be 
against  him,  and  the  judge  inflexibly  just,  still  he  cher- 
ishes hope  from  the  ingenuity  and  eloquence  of  his  advo- 
cate. But  for  the  sinner  at  Jehovah's  bar,  no  advocate  will 
be  found.  Not  one  of  his  boldest  companions  will  venture 
a  syllable  in  his  defence ;  not  one  of  those  foul  spirits  of 
darkness  who  beguiled  him  with  lies,  will  now  care  for  his 
safety  ;  not  one  of  the  bright  and  generous  millions  of 
angels  will  attempt  to  palliate  his  guilt ;  and  having  re- 
jected the  Saviour,  he  can  have  no  part  in  his  mercy.  Thus 
he  must  bear  his  own  burden.  He  must  meet  the  con- 
demning witnesses,  the  violated  law,  and  the  eternal  Judge, 
without  any  advocate.     And, 

All  the  jurors  will  be  perfectly  holy.  *'  Know  ye 
not  that  the  saints  shall  judge  the  world  ?"  Yes,  these 
happy  spirits,  themselves  '*  washed  and  made  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb,"  will  then  look  on  the  wricked  who 
have  despised  his  mercy,  just  as  they  appear  '*  in  the  light 
of  God's  countenance,"  amid  the  splendors  of  the  "  great 
white  throne ;"  and  in  such  circumstances  they  cannot  but 
acquiesce  in  the  sanctions  of  the  holy  law.  Their  part  will 
then  be,  with  Christ,  to  judge  and  condemn ;  and  not  as 
now,  to  entreat  and  suffer  wrong.  Men  of  piety  and  moral 
worth  are  sometimes  most  cruelly  treated  in  this  world. 
"Wealth  and  intrigue  may  here  succeed  in  a  bad  cause — 
**  but  'tis  not  so  above.^' 

0  sinner,  when  every  witness  shall    be  against    you, 


4  THE  DAY  OF  TRIAL. 

and  your  Judge  inflexibly  just ;  when  no  kind  advocate  shall 
appear  for' you,  and  all  the  jurors  shall  be  perfectly  holy — 
can  thy  heart  endure,  or  thy  hands  be  strong  ?  Ah,  no. 
Every  angel  would  say,  No  ;  this  controversy  is  with  Om- 
nipotence, and  no  sinner  "  shall  be  able  to  stand,"  when 
"  the  great  day  of  his  wrath  is  come." 

"Agree,  then,  with  thine  adversary  quickly,  whilst  thou 
art  in  the  way  with  him."  Fly  to  the  Saviour.  Accept 
his  offered  mediation.  It  is  inexpressible  madness  as  well 
as  guilt,  to  remain  unreconciled  to  God,  and  approach  the 
judgment,  without  an  advocate,  without  one  favoring  wit- 
ness, with  no  friend  on  the  throne,  nor  one  pitying  saint  or 
angel  amono^  all  the  assembled  millions. 

"The  ungodly  shall  not  stand."  And  recollect,  from 
that  fall  there  is  no  recovery.  It  settles  your  character 
and  destiny  for  ever.  And  oh,  eternity,  eternity,  eternity ! 
Who,  that  has  now  the  offer  of  peace,  would  have  the  Holy 
One  his  eternal  enemy  ?  Think,  0  my  soul,  what  it  is  to 
be  condemned  by  the  infinite  Redeemer  and  Judge,  and  lie 
for  ever  under  "  the  power  of  his  anger !"  Think  of  the 
amount  of  misery  to  be  endured  by  a  soul  increasing  for 
ever  in  guilt  and  remorse  !  Think  of  the  extent  of  eternity  ! 
Send  an  angel  forAvard  on  the  awful  deep,  with  lightning's 
speed,  for  millions  of  centuries,  and  the  dread  waves  of  per- 
dition are  still  rolling  eternally  beyond ! 

Dying  man,  what  are  your  prospects?  "Judge  your- 
self now,  that  you  may  not  be  condemned  with  the  world." 
"  The  prudent  man  foreseeth  the  evil,  and  hideth  himself." 
"If  thou  be  wise,  thou  shalt  be  Avise  for  thyself;  but  if 
thou  scornest,  thou  alone  must  bear  it."  D. 


rUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


:^o.  385. 

CONVICTIONS  STIFLED. 

A  NARRATIVE  OF  FACTS. 


At  a  public  religious  service  in  R ,  Pennsylvania,  on 

a  Sabbath  evening  in  1829,  a  gentleman  was  present  who 
had  not  been  in  the  house  of  God  for  years.  He  was  a  man 
of  wealth  ;  of  a  proud,  independent  spirit ;  notoriously  op- 
posed to  religion  and  to  ministers  of  the  Gospel. 

He  was  not  observed  by  the  speaker,  but  some  remarks 
made  on  the  violation  of  the  Sabbath,  set  one  of  his  sins  be- 
fore him,  and  he  went  homewards  in  a  state  of  hio-h  excite- 
ment ;  saying  to  his  daughter,  "  The  preacher  was  very  hard 
on  the  Sabbath-breaker  this  evening" — and  again,  ''I  don't 
know  but  he  spoke  the  truth."  On  reaching  home,  he 
began  to  walk  the  room,  and  to  speak  violently  against  the 
sermon ;  and  it  was  eleven  o'clock  before  he  ceased,  and 
retired  to  rest. 

In  the  morning  he  again  complained  of  the  sermon,  and 
walked  the  room  in  a^reat  mental  amtation.  At  breakfast 
he  said  he  was  sick ;  that  he  had  lost  his  appetite,  and  must 
have  a  physician.  As  the  physician  was  not  a  Christian, 
the  daughter,  a  young  lady  of  devoted  piety,  dreaded  his 
influence  on  her  father's  mind  ;  but  as  she  could  not  dis- 
suade him  from  his  purpose,  she  went  herself  to  the  physi- 
cian, told  him  she  thought  her  father  was  not  sick,  but  was 
distressed  in  view  of  his  sins,  and  in  the  fulness  of  her  ago- 
nized heart,  begged  to  remind  him  of  the  responsibility  of 
any  influence  he  might  exert  in  what  she  thought  so  critical 
a  moment  in  her  father's  history. 

The  physician  came.  After  an  examination  of  his  patient, 
he  said  there  were  no  symptoms  of  disease,  and  he  knew 
not  what  to  prescribe. 

"What  shall  I  do,  then,"  said  the  gentleman,  "for  I 
cannot  live  in  such  distress  ?" 

^'Were  I  in  your  case,"  said  the  physician,  "I  would 
send  for  Mr. ,"  the  preacher  on  the  evening  previous. 

"  What,"  he  replied,  surprised  and  excited  :  "  Doctor,  I 
thought  you  were  not  one  of  these  praying  people." 
I'OL.  X.  2'3* 


2  CONVICTIONS  STIFLED. 

"  I  am  not  one  of  them,  but  I  have  known  something 
about  conviction  within  a  few  months  ;  and  the  truth  is,  Mr. 

C ,  you  are  under  conviction  for  your  sins."     Having 

said  this,  he  rose,  and  immediately  left  him. 

The  gentleman  was  almost  overwhelmed.  His  physi- 
cian, in  whom  he  had  the  most  implicit  confidence,  was  "of 
no  value  "  in  the  present  crisis.  Every  resource  had  now 
failed.  The  hour  was  one  of  untold  agony.  It  was  a  mighty 
conflict  with  pride.  He  could  endure  it  no  longer.  He 
called  his  daughter,  and  requested  her  to  "  send  for  the 
minister." 

In  a  few  moments  I  entered  his  room.  He  was  lying 
on  his  bed.  When  he  saw  me,  he  said,  "  I  am  not  sick,  sir. 
I  know  not  what  is  the  matter.  I  have  called  a  physician, 
but  he  says  I  have  no  disease.  I  have  no  appetite  for  food. 
I  have  sent  for  you,  but  I  hardly  know  what  to  say  to  you." 

I  inquired  if  he  had  any  bodily  pain — in  his  head,  or 
side,  or  breast.     "  No,  I  have  not." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  subject  to  such  feelings  or 
attacks  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  have  never  been  in  such  a  state  before." 

"  Your  state,  Mr.  C ,  I  think,  is  not  pecuhar  to  your- 
self ;  others  have  been  affected  in  the  same  manner." 

"  How  is  that,  sir  ?  Did  you  ever  see  a  man  in  such  a 
state  ?     What  do  you  think  is  the  matter  with  me  ?" 

"  My  opinion  is,  Mr.  C ,  that  the  Spirit  of  God  is 

striving  with  you,  and  is  causing  you  to  feel  that  you  are  a 
sinner." 

*'  0  no,  it  cannot  be  so ;  it  is  nothing  of  that  kind." 

"  If  you  will  give  your  attention  a  few  moments,  I  will 
attempt  briefly  to  describe  some  of  the  views  and  feelings 
of  a  man  when  awakened  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  then 
you  may  judge  whether  you  are  in  that  state." 

He  listened  for  a  while  with  intense  interest,  but  sud- 
denly interrupted  me  by  saying,  "  0,  that  is  not  my  case. 
I  am  not  a  sinner.     What  have  I  done  ?" 

"  You  must  surely  know,  Mr.  C ,  that  you  are  a 

sinner,  for  all  are  sinners  ;  and  if  you  will  suffer  me  to  pro- 
ceed, I  may  help  you  to  see  that  you  are  an  aivakened  sin- 
ner." 

"  0,  I  don't  wish  to  hear  any  more.  It  distresses  me 
to  hear  you.     Do  let  me  alone." 


CONVICTIONS  STIFLED.  3 

His  daughter,  who,  with  a  tearful  eye,  had  silently  heard 
every  word,  now  said,  very  aflfectionately,  '*  Father,  you  are 

willing,  I  suppose,  that  Mr.  should  pray  with  you 

before  he  leaves  us?" 

"  0  no,  I  don't  wish  to  hear  prayer.     Do  leave  me,  Mr. 

,  I  wish  to  be  alone.     This  distress,  I  hope,  will  soon 

pass  away,  and  I  shall  then  feel  better." 

The  agonized  daughter  now  burst  into  tears.  I  rose  to 
take  my  departure  ;  but  at  this  solemn  and  critical  moment 
I  could  not  refrain  from  dropping  on  his  ear,  in  Christian 
kindness,  a  few  words  of  caution. 

"  I  cannot  retire,  Mr.  C ,  without  saying,  that  I  be- 
lieve you  are  now  an  awakened  sinner.  The  Spirit  of  God 
is  striving  with  you,  and  you  are  resisting  that  Spirit. 
Should  you  now  grieve  him  away,  you  have  reason  to  fear 
he  will  not  return  to  you  again.  If  you  do  not  now  repent 
of  your  sins,  and  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  you  will 
probably  yet  be  a  hardened  sinner.  Your  *  last  state  * 
will  be  '  worse  than  the  first ;'  and  the  fearful  probability 
is,  that  you  will  be  taken  from  the  world  without  any  warn- 
ing of  your  end.  These  words  are  not  uttered  merely  to 
excite  alarm,  but  as  the  honest  convictions  of  my  own  mind 
in  view  of  your  present  state.      Time  will  show  whether 

they  are  true  or  false.      Be  entreated,  then,  Mr.  C ,  to 

commit  yourself  to  Christ,  and  make  your  peace  with  him 
without  delay.  I  say  this  in  view  of  our  expected  meeting 
at  the  judgment- seat  of  Christ.  May  God  have  mercy 
upon  your  soul." 

Soon  after  I  left  him,  he  was  in  an  agony  of  feeling.  He 
called  his  daughter,  and  asked  her  if  she  would  pray  foi 
him.  They  bowed  together,  while  that  daughter,  whose 
prayers  and  religion  had  often  been  the  subject  of  his  ridi- 
cule and  opposition,  called  upon  the  Lord  for  his  salvation. 

The  tidings  soon  spread  over  the  town,  that  Mr.  C 

had  sent  for  the  minister  to  visit  him.  Nothing  could  have 
been  more  unexpected  and  surprising. 

Early  the  next  morning,  a  party  of  his  old  companions 
called  upon  him.  They  were  men  of  wealth  and  influence, 
and  brought  a  carriage  in  which  they  said  he  must  ride. 
At  first  he  declined ;  but  at  length  their  importunity  pre- 
vailed. 

He  entered  the  carriage  while  the  tears  and  prayers  of 


4  CONVICTIONS  STIFLED. 

his  daughter  besought  him  to  remain  at  home.  His  cruel 
friends  took  him  away,  and  did  not  return  until  ten  o'clock 
that  evening ;  when — awful  to  utter — they  brought  him 
home  in  a  state  of  intoxication. 

When  he  awoke  from  his  protracted  slumbers  in  the 
morning,  he  was  again  in  great  agony.  He  had  never  be- 
fore been  intoxicated,  and  the  recollection  of  this  disgrace- 
ful sin  enhanced  his  distress.  But  while  his  soul  was  thus 
keenly  smarting  under  the  lash  of  bitter  remorse,  his  com- 
panions again  presented  themselves,  requesting  him  to  ride  ; 
and  immediately  on  entering  the  house,  began  to  laugh  at 
him  for  turning  Christian. 

Their  ridicule  had  more  influence  than  the  authority  of 
God  and  his  own  danger  of  eternal  destruction.  Like  so 
many  demons,  they  beset  him  and  persuaded  him  to  ride 
with  them  on  the  second,  and  then  again  on  the  third  day, 
and  each  night  hrought  him  home  intoxicated. 

After  this  he  did  not  require  the  guardianship  of  his 
wicked  friends  to  secure  him  in  a  course  of  sin.  Their  wit 
and  opposition,  aided  by  the  palsying  influence  of  the  intox- 
icating draught,  seemed  to  have  seared  his  conscience,  and 
to  have  swept  away  all  conviction  of  his  sin  or  danger. 

For  months  after  this,  I  saw  him  daily  in  the  streets, 
but  had  no  opportunity  of  personal  conversation  with  him. 
He  never  again  visited  the  house  of  God.  He  was  known 
to  be  a  bold  blasphemer.  He  spoke  publicly  and  with 
much  apparent  enmity  against  ministers  of  the  Gospel  and 
professors  of  religion. 

About  nine  months  after  my  introduction  to  him,  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  a  lawyer  residing  in  R ,  stating  that 

early  one  morning  Mr.  C had  ordered  his  carriage,  that 

he  might  ride  to  Pottsville.  The  driver  not  being  ready  as 
soon  as  he  expected,  he  went  to  his  carriage-house  to  hasten 
him.  Returning  towards  his  house,  he  beckoned  to  his 
brother,  who  was  standing  in  the  door,  to  come  to  him,  and 
immediately  fell  upon  the  earth.  His  body  Avas  taken  up, 
but  the  spirit  had  departed  for  ever. 

"  He  that,  being  often  reproved,  hardeneth  his  neck, 
shall  suddenly  be  destroyed,  and  that  without  remedy." 


IVo.  386. 

SKETCH 


OF 


MISS    HARRIET    PATTERSON, 

DAUGHTER   OF   COMMODORE  PATTERSON,  OF  THE   U.  S.  NAVY. 


The  natural  disposition  of  Miss  Patterson  Avas  uncom- 
monly amiable,  and  her  personal  appearance  interesting-  and 
commanding.  To  these  were  added  all  the  improvements 
of  the  most  polished  education  which  Philadelphia  could 
afford,  under  the  special  guidance  of  devoted  parents  and 
aunts.  Her  education  completed,  she  removed  to  Wash- 
ington, where  her  father  held  a  high  military  command,  and 
where,  for  several  years,  she  had  every  opportunity  of  grat- 
ifying her  desires  for  the  follies  and  vanities  of  the  world. 
In  this  metropolis  of  pleasure,  fashion,  rank,  and  splendor, 
she  was  flattered,  admired,  caressed,  and  thus  became  still 
more  enamored  of  the  Avorld.  Nor  Avas  Washington,  with 
its  gayeties  and  pageantry,  to  be  the  only  theatre  on  which 
she  was  to  seek  for  this  Avorld's  happiness.  Her  father 
being  ordered  on  a  cruise  in  the  Mediterranean,  determined 
to  take  his  family  with  him,  consisting  of  Mrs.  Patterson, 
tAvo  sons,  and  three  daughters,  of  Avhom  the  subject  of  this 
notice  Avas  the  eldest.  In  full  health,  and  in  the  bloom  of 
youth,  Avith  an  inquiring  and  highly  cultivated  mind,  and  a 
heart  full  of  this  Avorld,  she  left  her  native  land  to  visit  the 
most  interesting  places  in  the  old  Avorld,  and  still  more  per- 
fectly to  cultivate  the  accomplishments  already  acquired. 

"When  she  joined  the  ship,"  said  one  who  Avas  well 
qualified  to  speak,  "  she  was  in  fine  health,  and  so  continued 
for  tAA^o  years.  Cheerful  in  disposition,  Avith  a  mind  Avell 
stored,  and  features  so  beautiful  as  to  excite  admiration 
wherever  slie  Avcnt ;  kind  in  her  feelings  toAvards  all,  and 
blending  feminine  modesty  Avith  great  sociableness,  she  soon 
became  a  favorite  Avith  all  of  us.  We  arrived  in  the  Medi- 
terranean in  September,  1832,  and  during  that  and  the  fol- 
lowing year  visited   nearly  all  the  cities  along  its  shores, 


2  SKETCH  OF  MISS  HARRIET  PATTERSON. 

including  Athens  and  Constantinople.  The  summer  of  1834 
was  spent  chiefly  in  visiting  Egypt  and  Syria.  While  the 
ship  remained  at  Alexandria  we  proceeded  to  Jaffa  or  Joppa, 
and  then  made  a  visit  to  Jerusalem."  While  here,  Miss 
Patterson,  in  company  with  her  parents,  sisters,  brothers, 
and  officers  of  the  ship,  visited  the  places  which  are  en- 
deared to  the  Christian  by  so  many  hallowed  recollections. 
They  stood  on  the  spot  where  the  Redeemer  of  the  world 
laid  down  his  life  for  the  sins  of  man  ;  they  visited  the  tomb 
in  which  he  was  buried ;  they  walked  in  the  garden  where 
he  agonized ;  ascended  the  Mount  of  Olives  where  he  was 
wont  to  retire  for  prayer ;  and,  by  a  short  excursion  from 
the  Holy  City,  saw  with  delight  the  place  of  his  nativity. 

*'  To  Miss  Patterson,"  said  one  of  those  who  attended 
her,  *'  these  visits  seemed  to  have  been  peculiarly  impres- 
sive. I  do  not  know  that  any  powerful  conviction  was  im- 
mediately produced  by  them ;  her  feelings  seem  to  have 
been  rather  awe  and  admiration  of  the  love  of  Christ  for 
sinners,  and  a  more  powerful  realizing  of  the  great  sacrifice 
there  offered  up  for  a  lost  world."  She  had  always  paid 
some  attention  to  the  subject  of  religion,  and  at  the  time 
she  visited  the  sepulchre,  having  her  Bible  with  her,  she 
laid  it  on  the  marble  coffin  said  to  have  contained  the  sacred 
body  of  Jesus,  and  with  a  pencil,  on  its  blank  leaf,  wrote 
these  words :  "  Let  every  thing  that  hath  breath  praise  the 
Lord."  Immediately  on  her  return  to  the  ship  there  was 
perceived  to  be  an  attention  to  the  subject  of  religion  as  a 
thing  of  greater  importance  than  she  had  hitherto  regarded 
it.  She  read,  and  studied,  and  prayed,  and  became  deeply 
humbled  under  a  sense  of  her  sinfulness,  and  trusted  in  her 
Saviour  for  salvation.  Her  life,  soon  after  this  visit,  became 
that  of  a  meek  and  humble,  yet  joyful  Christian.  She 
never  shrunk  from  avowing  the  change  which  had  been 
wrought  in  her,  and  indeed  wished  that  all  her  friends  and 
associates  might  be  made  aware  of  it. 

Often  was  she  strongly  tempted,  in  the  different  places 
visited,  and  the  trying  scenes  through  which  she  must  pass, 
to  enter  into  gayeties  unbecoming  her  religious  character ; 
but  she  firmly,  though  meekly,  resisted  every  solicitation, 
and  preferred  her  new  and  more  elevated  pleasures.  During 
the  summer  of  her  visit  to  Syria  her  health  became  delicate, 
but  not  so  much  so  as  to  cause  any  serious  alarm.     During 


SKETCH  OF  MISS  HARRIET  PATTERSON.  3 

the  -winter  at  Mahon  she  became  more  feeble,  but  in  the 
spring-  she  began  to  regain  her  health,  and  there  was  every 
promise  of  a  return  to  her  native  land,  and  to  many  much- 
loved  friends.  It  was  at  this  time  she  spoke  with  pleasure 
of  publicly  declaring  to  the  world  what  the  grace  of  God 
had  done  for  her,  and  what  she  was  resolved,  by  that  same 
grace,  to  do,  in  evidence  of  her  love  and  gratitude. 

In  a  paper  dated  March  15,  1835,  in  which,  unknown 
to  any  one  on  earth,  she  recorded  the  devout  exercises  of 
her  soul,  she  says,  "  I  have  been  possessed  with  the  love  of 
the  world — I  have  sought  it — 1  have  loved  it — I  have 
adored  it :  in  a  word,  it  has  been  the  sum  and  substance  of 
my  life — and  what  has  it  profited  me  ?  Should  I  not  at 
once  renounce  those  vain  pursuits,  those  empty  and  false 
amusements  and  images,  and  seek  the  truth ;  that  inex- 
haustible source  of  light,  of  strength,  of  satisfaction,  and 
happiness  ? 

"  I  do  not  fear  that  thou  wilt  reject  me,  0  mighty  and 
lovinof  Redeemer.  I  fear  not  that  thou  wilt  disdain  to 
accept  the  heart  now  offered  thee,  notwithstanding  it  has 
so  repeatedly  refused  thy  gracious  invitations.  Thy  mercy 
is  inexhaustible  and  unwearied.  Thou  canst  subdue  and 
establish  my  heart  in  peace.  I  know  there  is  no  excess  or 
injustice  of  which  it  is  incapable  ;  but  I  know  that  it  is  easy 
to  make  thyself  master  of  it,  and  to  attach  it  to  thee  in 
*  bonds  of  a  perpetual  covenant  never  to  be  forgotten.' 
May  I  not  hope  to  realize  the  blessed  effects  of  thine  holy 
influence  ?  Refuse  me  not,  0  Lord,  my  God,  refuse  me 
not  any  of  those  helps  of  thy  grace  which  may  so  attach 
me  to  thee,  *  that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor 
principalities,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor 
the  heights  of  prosperity,  nor  the  depths  of  adversity,  nor 
any  other  created  thing,  may  be  able  to  separate '  me 
either  from  the  love  with  which  thou  dost  honor  me  in 
Jesus  Christ,  or  that  which  I  am  ever  bound  to  have  for 
thee,  both  in  time  and  in  eternity.  Take  possession  of  this 
heart,  0  God,  and  so  subject  all  its  emotions  to  thyself  that 
none  may  ever  again  arise  which  may  not  be  conformable 
to  thy  will,  and  which  tend  not  to  thy  glory." 

When  the  above  was  written,  she  designed  to  make  a 
public  avowal  of  her  Saviour  as  soon  as  she  should  reach 
her  native  land  ;  but  Providence  thouorht  fit  to  order  it  other- 


4  SKETCH  OF  MISS  HARRIET  PATTERSON. 

wise.  Unfavorable  symptoms  occasionally  appeared,  and 
her  kind  parents,  on  their  passage  over  the  Atlantic,  were 
alternately  encouraged  by  hope  and  depressed  by  fear.  The 
shores  of  America  were  at  length  in  sight,  and  their  daugh- 
ter was  yet  alive,  and  hope  still  comforted  all  the  hearts 
which  loved  her.  But  He  in  whose  hands  are  the  winds 
and  waves,  saw  fit  to  disappoint  them.  The  earthly  haven 
was  seen,  but  was  not  reached,  in  life,  by  the  object  of  their 
tender  solicitude.  Adverse  winds  arose,  which  drove  them 
from  the  shore ;  and  while  the  stately  vessel  was  tossing  to 
and  fro  on  the  mountain  wave,  seeking  harbor,  but  in  vain, 
the  spirit  of  this  lovely,  interesting,  and  redeemed  young 
woman  was  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  taken  up  to  the 
haven  of  everlasting  rest.  On  the  following  day  the  ma- 
jestic Delaware  was  seen  passing  from  the  now  calmed 
Atlantic  through  the  capes,  into  the  safe  and  quiet  harbor 
which  she  had  been  seeking,  bearing  the  mortal  remains  of 
the  departed  child,  and  the  weeping  relatives  and  sympa- 
thizing crew.  On  the  third  day  it  anchored  opposite  Nor- 
folk ;  and  according  to  previous  arrangements,  the  remains 
of  the  deceased,  accompanied  by  the  bereaved  family  and 
a  large  number  of  the  officers  and  crew,  were  first  carried 
into  *'  Christ  Church,"  where  the  funeral  service  Avas  per- 
formed by  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Meade,  with  some  appro- 
priate remarks,  and  afterwards  conveyed  to  the  church- 
yard adjoining  the  city,  where  it  was  consigned  to  the  grave. 

On  the  tombstone  which  covers  that  spot,  the  passing 
traveller  may  read  the  last  words  of  the  precious  manuscript 
she  left  behind  :  "  Most  merciful  Father,  I  beseech  thee  so 
to  dispose  of  every  event,  that  I  may  live  in  thy  service, 
and  that  I  may  die  in  thy  favor  and  in  thy  love." 

To  the  youth  of  our  land,  especially  those  who  were 
acquainted  with  the  deceased  in  the  days  of  her  vanity,  the 
above  sketch  is  affectionately  commended.  Would  they  be 
blest,  let  them  go  and  do  likewise. 

[This  narrative  is  beautifully  confirmed  by  Rev.  George  Jones, 
in  his  "  Excursions  to  Jerusalem,  etc.,  from  U.  S.  ship  Dela- 
ware."] 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


Ko.  387. 


ALL  IN  THE  ARK. 


A   FAMILY   TRACT. 


Noah  was  the  head  of  a  family- 
He  with  his  wife,  three  sons  and 
their  wives,  made  eight  souls.  The 
little  flock  were  one  day  seen  leav- 
ing their  home,  going  forth  amidst 
rude  and  impious  men  towards  a 
mysterious  building,  which  had 
some  time  stood  for  their  jest  and  mockery.  The  procession 
entered,  and  God  shut  them  in.  As  they  took  their  seats  in 
the  building,  which  lor  many  days  and  nights  was  to  be  their 
home,  they  were  impressed  with  an  expectation  of  something 
terrible  about  to  come,  ^^uddenly  they  heard  the  wind  rising ; 
VOL.  X.  24 


2  ALL  IN  THE  ARK. 

its  hollow  moan  portended  a  fearful  storm.  At  once  it 
seemed  a-s  though  a  cloud  had  burst  upon  the  ark  ;  the 
great  rain  of  God's  strength  descended  ;  the  flood  had  come. 
All  night  a  rushing  sound  of  waters  came  from  the  earth ; 
for  the  fountains  of  the  sea  were  broken  up,  "  the  deep  utter- 
ed his  voice,  and  lifted  up  his  hands  on  high."  The  ark 
moved,  and  then  was  still ;  and  again  its  inhabitants  felt 
themselves  born  up  by  the  rising  waters. 

As  they  looked,  in  a  few  days,  from  the  window  of  the 
ark,  the  air  was  darkened  with  rain,  and  the  dry  land,  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  had  become  a  sea,  which  could 
not  rest.  Imagine  what  was  probably  the  awful  scene 
around  them.  Corpses  of  men,  women,  and  children,  parts 
of  dwellings,  promiscuous  household  things,  were  driven 
together  upon  the  flood  ;  and  here  and  there  a  wild  animal, 
with  his  head  stretched  above  the  waves,  turned  suddenly 
and  uttered  his  frighted  cry.  From  the  tops  of  places  not 
yet  reached  by  the  flood,  but  covered  with  darkness,  voices 
of  despair  were  heard,  and  from  places  within  call  of  the 
ark,  a  crowd  just  ready  to  perish  implored  help.  When  the 
sun  went  down  again,  imagination  made  the  scene  more  ter- 
rible. As  each  thunder-peal  died  away  in  the  distance,  a 
crashing  sound  of  thunder  would  succeed,  then  roll  in  angry 
murmurs  under  the  whole  heaven.  In  the  lull  of  the  storm, 
voices  of  agonizing  prayer  were  heard,  and  now  and  then, 
beneath  the  very  window  of  the  ark,  the  cry  "  of  some  strong 
swimmer  in  his  agony,"  made  the  family  within  turn  pale. 

Noah  had  forewarned  the  victims  of  these  scenes.  The 
God  in  whom  he  believed  is  the  strength  of  his  heart, 
while  the  world  around  him  is  dying.  His  family  are  safe 
with  him  in  the  ark.  He  sings  the  praise  of  that  mercy 
which  had  saved  them  from  destruction  :  "  How  diff'erent 
would  my  feelings  be,  if  any  of  you  were  now  without,  and 
I  were  listening  to  every  cry,  as  though  it  might  be  the  cry 
of  one  of  you  separated  from  us,  and  perishing  under  the 
wrath  of  God." 


ALL  IN  THE  ARK.  3 

The  fact  that  the  ivhole  of  Noali  s  family  went  with  him 
into  the  ark,  is  not  a  little  remarkable.  Here  were  three 
young  men  saved  from  a  race  of  scoffers  and  despisers  of 
religion.  Having  the  same  inclinations  and  passions  with 
others,  it  no  doubt  required  much  prayer,  and  exhortation, 
and  pious  authority,  to  persuade  them  to  go  into  the  ark. 
Think  how  foolish  Noah's  project  must  have  seemed  to  the 
men  of  his  time.  He  declared  that  there  was  to  be  a  flood 
that  Avould  cover  the  tops  of  the  highest  mountains ;  and 
therefore  beoan  to  build  a  huo-e  ark,  to  save  himself  and 
family  from  destruction.  Suppose  that  a  man  should  say 
and  do  the  same  now,  we  can  imagine  what  jeers  and 
mockery  would  befall  him.  How  few,  probably,  would  be 
induced  to  join  him.  But  the  flood  must  have  seemed  full 
as  improbable  to  the  men  of  Noah's  time,  as  it  would  now 
to  us ;  and  Noah's  ability  to  prevail  upon  his  children  to 
join  him  in  preparing  and  entering  into  the  ark,  was  a 
result  of  judicious,  holy,  parental  influence.  Though  the 
grace  of  God  effected  it,  Noah's  influence  as  a  pious,  faith- 
ful head  of  a  family,  was  no  doubt  the  means.  For  it  is 
said,  "  And  Noah  was  perfect  in  his  generations,  and  Noah 
wklked  with  God."  Parents  must  walk  with  God,  if  they 
would  bring  their  children  with  them  into  the  ark. 

To  see  the  probability  of  what  has  now  been  said,  look, 
in  the  way  of  contrast,  to  the  family  of  Lot.  When  the 
angels  told  him  that  the  Lord  would  destroy  that  place, 
and  said,  "  Hast  thou  here  any  besides  ?"  and  sent  him  to 
his  sons-in-law  who  married  his  daughters,  he  seemed  to 
them  like  one  that  mocked.  His  influence  over  them  had 
not  been  sanctified ;  his  wife,  too,  had  loved  the  world  in  a 
manner  that  prevented  the  salvation  of  her  own  soul ;  but 
Noah  carried  his  daughters-in-law  as  well  as  his  own  chil- 
dren and  his  wife  with  him  into  the  ark.  We  may,  indeed, 
refer  tliis  distinction  between  the  two  families  to  the  sov- 
ereignty of  God  ;  but  who  can  doubt,  with  the  Scripture 
history  before  him,  that  Noah  was  a  better  father  than  Lot, 


4  ALL  IN  THE  ARK. 

and  that  the  providence  and  grace  of  God  coincided,  as 
they  usually  do,  in  so  appropriate  a  means  for  the  salvation 
of  his  family  ? 

The  children  of  Noah  were  exposed  to  great  tempta- 
tions. They  lived  in  a  wicked  age ;  their  neighbors  and 
their  neighbors'  children  were  wicked ;  they  could  not  but 
hear  scofts  against  religion,  and  against  their  father,  and 
against  his  ark ;  and  it  was  almost  a  miracle  that  they  did 
not  turn  against  their  father,  and  sit  in  the  seat  of  the  scorn- 
ful. But  there  was  somethino-  in  the  life  of  that  sfood  man 
more  powerful  than  all  this  unholy  influence.  It  is  alto- 
gether probable  that  he  used  to  pray  with  his  sons.  Every 
morning,  before  they  were  exposed  to  the  temptations  of  a 
wicked  world,  it  may  be,  he  called  them  together,  spake  to 
them  of  God,  their  souls,  the  flood,  eternity  ;  and  by  prayer 
endeavored  to  sfuard  their  minds  aofainst  the  bad  influences 
of  the  world.  During  the  day  his  conversation  would  per- 
haps occasionally  lead  them  to  serious  meditation ;  and  as 
in  the  morning  he  sowed  his  seed,  so  in  the  evening  he  with- 
held not  his  hand.  As  the  result  of  his  faithfulness,  he  had 
the  happiness  of  being  surrounded  in  the  ark  by  his  unbroken 
family. 

*'  The  heavens  and  the  earth  which  are  now,  by  the  same 
word  are  kept  in  store,  reserved  unto  fire  against  the  day 
of  judgment  and  perdition  of  ungodly  men."  The  minis- 
ters of  God  are  now  doing  what  Noah  did,  when  first  the 
long-suffering  of  God  v/aited :  they  are  pointing  men  to  the 
only  refuge,  Jesus  Christ,  and  warning  them  that  those,  and 
those  only,  who  are  found  in  him  will  be  saved.  Especially 
to  every  father  and  mother  the  message  of  God  now  is,  as, 
in  a  somewhat  different  sense  indeed,  it  was  to  Noah,  "  Come 
thou  and  all  thy  house  into  the  ark." 

A  happy  family  is  the  perfection  of  human  happiness. 
The  relations  which  it  includes  are  the  most  tender  on 
earth,  and  nothing  is  to  be  compared  to  the  hold  which 
family  ties  have  upon  a  man's  heart.     God  would  preserve 


ALL  IN  THE  ARK.  5 

these  ties  unbroken,  because  they  make  us  happy  on  earth, 
and,  sanctified,  make  a  part  of  the  happiness  of  heaven. 
Therefore  his  invitation  of  mercy  is  not  merely  directed  to 
man  as  an  individual,  but  he  graciously  thinks  of  those 
whom  the  man  loves  ;  and  when  he  speaks  to  a  husband 
and  father  about  his  soul  and  about  eternity,  it  is  not  enough 
to  bid  him  welcome,  but  he  says,  "  Come  thou  and  all  thy 
house  into  the  ark."  When  you  think  how  sure  and  terri- 
ble is  the  last  tempest — how  kind  and  free  the  invitation  to 
be  saved  from  it — how  dreadful  to  have  a  family  scattered 
when  that  tempest  comes — how  delightful  on  earth  and 
transporting  in  eternity  that  the  family  should  be  united  in 
everlasting  bonds — nothing  seems  more  desirable  than  that 
this  invitation  should  be  accepted. 

Let  us  then  consider  some  of  the  more  obvious  means 
by  which,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  your  ioIloIg  family  may, 
like  that  of  Noah,  come  into  the  ark. 

The  parents  themselves  should  set  the  example. 
Parental  influence  is  a  powerful  means  of  the  children's 
salvation.  Children  should  be  pious,  though  their  parents 
are  not  so ;  still,  in  the  order  of  nature,  the  parent  should 
lead  the  child,  rather  than  the  child  the  parent.  If  we 
would  not  have  our  families  broken  up  at  the  last  day,  we 
who  are  parents  must  do  all  in  our  power  to  prevent  it. 
We  are  not  preventing  it,  but  are  helping  it  by  the  surest 
means,  if  we  are  not  ourselves  pious.  Children  make  in- 
ferences as  readily  as  grown  persons ;  and  they  secretly 
think,  "  If  there  were  any  great  importance  in  religion,  if 
heaven  and  hell  were  what  we  read  of,  or  our  teachers 
tell  us  they  are,  our  father  and  mother  would  not  only  tell 
us  so,  but  would  be  pious  themselves  ;  but  if  they  are  not 
Christians,  why  should  we  be  concerned  ?  They  know 
better  than  we  w^hat  is  right  and  safe,  and  we  will  follow 
them."  We  know  not  how  many  children  have  long  since 
come  to  this  conclusion.  It  is  a  thought  that  should  make 
VOL.  X.  24* 


6  ALL  IN  THE  ARK. 

a  parent,  wlio  is  not  a  Christian,  tremble,  that  his  children 
may  be  heard  to  plead  hereafter,  because  indeed  they  have 
no  better  excuse,  "  If  my  father  or  mother  had  been  a 
Christian,  I  should  have  thought  more  of  the  importance 
of  religion."  So  long  as  a  parent  is  not  known  by  his  fam- 
ily as  a  Christian,  his  influence  is  against  experimental 
piety.  His  amiable  disposition,  his  good  principles,  can 
never  save  the  soul  of  his  child  ;  "one  tli'mg  is  needful,'"  and 
his  being  without  it  will  frequently  be  observed  by  a  child 
sooner  than  by  an  older  person. 

This  is  peculiarly  the  case  where  one  of  the  jmrents  is 
pious  and  the  other  is  not.  If  the  father  or  mother  prays 
with  the  child,  and  speaks  to  it  on  religious  subjects,  it 
will  wonder  why  the  other  parent  does  not  do  the  same. 
But  often,  when  the  mother  has  labored  for  the  conversion 
of  the  child,  and  the  father  has  not  confirmed  the  instruc- 
tions of  the  mother  by  his  example,  the  child  has  been 
affected  by  the  negative  influence  of  the  father,  rather  than 
by  all  the  prayers  and  tears  of  the  mother.  A  child  regards 
his  father's  example  with  peculiar  strictness,  and  the  father 
may  neutralize  all  that  takes  place  in  the  closet  between  the 
mother  and  the  child,  merely  by  not  being  a  Christian,  and 
thus  not  adding  his  prayers,  and  his  holy  words,  and  his 
silent  but  mighty  influence,  in  favor  of  religion.  He  need 
not  be  profane,  or  intemperate,  nor  tell  the  child  that  his 
mother  is  foolish  ;  he  may  be  a  pattern,  as  a  father,  of  all 
that  is  aff'ectionate  and  kind  ;  but  only  let  him  never  speak 
to  the  child  of  its  Saviour,  nor  pray  with  it,  nor  talk  of  an- 
other world  ;  and  if  that  mother's  prayers  and  influence 
succeed,  it  will  be  a  singular  triumph  of  the  grace  of  God 
over  a  stronof  counteractinof  influence.  While  it  is  worse 
for  a  child  if  neither  of  its  parents  ai*e  pious,  it  is  a  solemn 
thing  for  an  unconverted  parent  that  the  other  parent  should 
be  a  Christian,  for  the  piety  of  the  one  makes  the  influence 
of  the  other  more  dangerous.  Is  it  not  the  silent  language 
of  every  micon verted    parent's    example,   "  This  world    is 


ALL  IN  THE  ARK.  7 

more  than  eternity ;  its  pleasures,  riches,  honors,  are  more 
important  than  rehgion  ;  repentance,  faith,  regeneration,  are 
not  essential  ?" 

What  do  children  think  who  leave  one  parent  at  the 
Lord's  supper,  and  see  their  honored  and  beloved  father 
or  mother  go  away  ?  Suppose  that  your  child  should  say 
to  you,  as  you  are  leading  it  home  from  church  on  a  Sab- 
bath, when  your  wife  or  husband  has  remained  with  the 
church  at  the  Lord's  table,  "  Why  do  not  you  remain  ?" 
Endeavor  to  form  an  answer  to  such  a  question,  and  see 
how  it  will  stand  the  test  of  His  judgment,  who  gave  him- 
self for  you  that  you  might  not  perish,  and  what  its  proba- 
ble influence  would  be  on  that  immortal  spirit  which  you 
habitually  bring  away  with  you  from  the  memorials  of  his 
body  and  blood.  Impressions  are  made  upon  young  chil- 
dren by  our  conduct  which  will  last  through  eternity,  and 
on  which  may  depend,  in  manj'  cases,  where  that  eternity 
shall  be  spent.'  No  one  can  describe  the  responsibility  of 
being  from  day  to  day  with  a  child,  and  of  having  its  eter- 
nal destiny  affected  by  us ;  for  who  can  doubt  that  parents 
and  children  in  eternity  will  see  that  bliss  or  woe  came  to 
many  a  child  through  the  influence  of  its  father  or  its  mother, 
and  that  some  will  mourn  and  say,  "  Had  I  done  my  duty, 
my  children  might  have  been  in  heaven  with  their  father 
and  mother,  and  I  with  them  ;  whereas  I,  to  whom  the 
whole  family  looked  for  an  example,  am  the  cause  of  their 
perdition."  It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  in  seeking  the  sal- 
vation of  the  family,  both  the  parents  must,  above  all  things, 
set  an  example  of  personal  religion. 

But  some  parents  will  say,  as  the  servants  did  who  had 
called  the  guests  to  the  wedding-supper,  "  '  Lord,  we  have 
done  as  thou  hast  commanded,  and  yet  there  is  room.' 
Some  of  them — perhaps  all — refuse  to  come.  And  what 
shall  we  do  ?"  I  answer.  As  another  obvious  means,  by  the 
blessing  of  God,  of  securing  the  salvation  of  the  family. 


8  ALL  IN  THE  ARK. 

Parental  authority  should,  in  a  judicious  manner,  be 
joined  wifh  parental  example. 

This  should  be  done  with  regard  to  amusements  and 
pleasures.  The  people  of  Noah's  time  were  lovers  of  pleas- 
ure more  than  lovers  of  God.  They  rioted  in  all  manner 
of  pleasures,  some  of  which,  without  doubt,  were  fascinat- 
ing to  the  young  ;  and  perhaps  the  sons  of  Noah,  and  their 
wives,  were  strongly  inclined  to  join  in  them.  No  doubt  there 
were  innocent  amusements  to  which  they  could  have  access. 
"The  father  of  all  them  that  handle  the  harp  and  organ" 
had  supplied  them  with  the  diversions  which  music  aftbrds. 
The  great  artificer  in  brass  and  iron  had  also  introduced  his 
curious  and  useful  implements  ;  and  the  "  mighty  hunter," 
who  afterwards  arose  in  Noah's  family,  shows  that  the 
pleasures  of  the  hunt  and  chase,  useful  in  those  days,  may 
not  have  been  unknown.  There  was  no  want  of  such  diver- 
sions as  were  proper,  and  probably  no  disposition  on  the 
part  of  their  father  to  restrain  their  use  of  them.  But  then 
it  was  hard  not  to  do  as  they  saw  their  neighbors  and  their 
neighbors'  children  do  ;  and  perhaps  the  sons  and  daugh- 
ters of  Noah  plead  with  him  for  indulgence  in  the  scenes 
of  sinful  festivity  to  which  they  were  called.  But  God 
had  said  to  Noah,  "  The  end  of  all  flesh  is  come  before 
me ;  and  behold,  I,  even  I,  do  bring  a  flood  upon  the 
earth,  wherein  every  living  thing  shall  die  :  make  thee  an 
ark."  To  suffer  his  children  to  mingle  in  sinful  pleasures, 
he  saw,  would  be  to  let  them  venture  into  the  snares  of 
Satan. 

A  part  of  the  moral  education  of  the  young  should  be, 
to  teach  them  that  there  are  thino^s  in  this  world  which 
they  cannot  a7id  must  not  have  ;  that  they  will  frequently 
be  called  upon,  in  a  wicked  world,  to  be  singular,  to  have 
numbers  and  influence  against  them,  especially  if  they 
themselves  are  disposed  to  be  decided  in  their  uprightness. 
Is  it  a  suitable  preparation  of  them  for  such  trials,  to  accus- 
tom them  to  immoderate  and  full  indulfjence  of  all  their 


ALL  IN  TIIK  ARK. 


wishes ;  to  let  them  do  what,  at  best,  is  of  doubtful  ten- 
dency, because  others  do  it  ? 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  discuss  the  propriety  of  differ- 
ent amusements  and  pleasures,  but  only  to  say,  that  in 
cases  whei'e  we  doubt  the  good  influence  of  such  amuse- 
ments, we  must  be  decided  in  the  proper  exercise  of  pa- 
rental authority. 

Parental  authority  must  also  in  a  judicious  manner  be 
joined  with  parental  example,  ivith  regard  to  many  things 
connected  with  religious  faith  and  practice.  Suppose  that 
the  men  of  Noah's  time  had  professed  to  be  pious  in  the 
midst  of  their  sins,  and  had  altars  where  they  worshipped 
what  they  called  God,  but  such  a  god  altogether  as  them- 
selves, after  their  own  hearts ;  and  suppose  that  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  Noah  were  strongly  inclined  to  go  with 
their  neighbors  on  the  Sabbath,  when  Noah  and  his  wife 
came  around  their  little  altar  to  offer  sacrifice — would  he 
have  said  to  them,  "  My  children,  I  have  no  right  to  dictate 
to  you  what  faith  you  shall  embrace,  or  what  God  you 
shall  worship  ?  God  has  warned  me  of  the  flood,  in  which 
even  these  men,  who  have  the  form  of  godliness  but  deny 
the  power,  must  surely  perish.  And  he  has  commanded 
me  to  come  with  all  my  house  into  the  ark.  At  the  same 
time  I  would  not  be  illiberal,  and  I  am  not  a  bigot.  Per- 
haps it  may  be  well  for  you  to  '  prove  all  things,  and  hold 
fast  that  which  is  good  !'  " 

How  like  mockery  this  seems,  compared  with  what  we 
may  suppose  was  his  language  and  conduct.  "  My  children, 
*  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found ;  call  ye  upon 
him  while  he  is  near.  If  ye  seek  him,  he  will  be  found  of 
you ;  but  if  you  forsake  him,  he  will  cast  you  off  for  ever.' 
Do  I  not  knoAv  that  the  Lord  is  God  ?  Should  I  be  willing 
to  risk  my  soul  at  those  unsanctified  altars  ?  *  Their  meat- 
ofterinors  and  their  drink- offerino-s  will  I  not  offer,  neither 
will  I  take  up  their  names  into  my  lips.'  Let  them  denounce 
me  as  gloomy  and  intolerant ;  I  fear  Him  only,  who,  '  after 


10  ALL  IN  THE  ARK. 

he  has  killed,  has  power  to  cast  into  hell.'  And  I  warn 
you,  that- if  you  forsake  the  altar  of  my  God,  and  go  after 
false  religion,  you  will  be  covenant-breakers,  and  expose 
yourselves  to  be  abandoned  of  heaven." 

Would  the  children  have  disregarded  such  an  appeal  ? 
But  suppose  that  one,  more  headstrong  than  the  rest,  dis- 
obeyed, and  renounced  his  father's  faith  ;  did  the  father 
cease  from  the  most  incessant  and  faithful  efforts  to  reclaim 
him  ?  Or,  did  he  console  himself  by  saying  that  he  had 
done  all  he  could,  and  the  child  must  be  responsible  for  his 
own  conduct  ?  Without  doubt  he  exerted  his  parental 
influence  and  authority.  So  should  Christian  parents,  if 
their  children  manifest  wandering  desires,  or  an  idle  curi- 
osity with  regard  to  religious  worship,  and  are  inclined  to 
stray  away  from  the  watch  and  care  of  their  parents  on  the 
Sabbath.  So  should  they  do,  moreover,  if  their  children 
are  inclined  to  spend  the  intermission  of  public  worship, 
or  any  part  of  the  Sabbath,  unnecessarily,  in  the  streets  or 
fields. 

Parents  and  children  luill  rejoice  hereafter  at  the  success- 
ful use  of  authority.  Let  us  look  once  more  upon  the  fam- 
ily in  the  ark,  while  the  rains  descend,  the  floods  come,  and 
the  winds  blow,  and  thousands  all  around  are  in  the  agonies 
of  death.  See  the  patriarch  and  his  children,  who  were  so 
strictly  governed  by  him  that  some  feared  he  would  break 
their  spirits  and  make  them  narrow-minded — see  them 
praising  God  for  his  restraining  grace,  and  adoring  that 
mercy  which  saved  them  from  th€  enticements  and  dangers 
of  a  dying  world.  How  different  at  the  judgment-day  will 
the  feelings  of  some  parents  be  from  what  they  now  are,  in 
regard  to  the  management  of  their  children ;  and  of  chil- 
dren in  regard  to  their  parents'  strictness.  How  thankful 
those  children  will  be  who  are  saved,  that  their  parents  did 
exercise  authority  over  them,  though  they  had  grow^n  be- 
yond childhood,  and  by  a  judicious  and  mild,  though  per- 
severing course,  governed  their  wayward  and  foolish  dispo- 


ALL  IN  THE  ARK.  H 

sitions.  And  what  scenes,  heart-rending  scenes,  will  there 
be,  when  the  last  sentence  is  uttered,  and  the  great  throng- 
is  breaking  up.  There  families  will  linger  a  moment  for 
the  farewell,  and  the  child  will  think,  "  Why  were  my 
father  and  mother  so  easy  with  me,  when  they  knew  that 
the  course  I  wished  to  take  would  certainly  lead  me  to  hell  ? 
Had  they  been  a  little  more  severe,  and  warned  me  faith- 
fully, and  made  more  efforts  to  keep  me  from  my  foolish 
ways,  I  might  have  been  saved,  or  else  my  blood  had  been 
on  my  own  head ;  but  now,  the  authors  of  my  existence  are 
the  occasion  of  my  eternal  ruin." 

Pious    PARENTS    WHO    HAVE    UNCONVERTED    CHILDREN 

Have  you  done  all  that  your  parental  character  authorizes 
you  to  do  for  their  souls,  in  the  way  of  restraint  and  other- 
wise ?  God  has  given  you  a  great  trust ;  you  are  not 
merely  the  advisers  of  your  children  ;  God  has  clothed  you 
with  authority,  and  he  will  sustain  you  in  it.  By  all  means 
make  them  obey.  If  you  let  them  resist  and  disobey  you, 
they  will  the  more  readily  disobey  their  consciences,  and 
resist  the  Holy  Ghost.  Obedience  is  important  for  its  influ- 
ence on  their  subsequent  character  and  conduct,  as  well  as 
for  the  peace  and  happiness  of  the  family.  A  fear  of 
ofl:ending  a  child,  or  of  urging  or  insisting  upon  what  a 
parent  knows  is  right  and  proper,  has,  in  all  probability,  in 
many  cases  separated  the  child  and  the  parent,  the  child 
and  heaven,  for  ever.  If  you  know  what  the  Bible  teaches, 
if  you  are  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  all  that  you  profess, 
will  you  suffer  timidity  to  deprive  you  of  this  only  oppor- 
tunity of  laboring  to  save  your  children  from  destruction  ? 

Do  not  excuse  yourselves  from  duty  by  a  mistaken  view 
of  divine  sovereignty.  Some  pious  parents  have  said, 
*'  There  are  many  of  the  greatest  and  best  of  men  that 
have  unconverted  children ;  if  the  prayers  and  efforts  of 
such  men  fail,  it  is  not  my  fault  if  mine  are  not  converted." 
There  is  error  in  this  reasoningf,  even  if  the  conclusion  itself 


12  ALL  IN  THE  ARK. 

be  true.  The  individuals  in  question  may  be  the  greatest 
and  best  of  schohirs,  or  preachers,  or  citizens  ;  but  are  they 
the  greatest  and  best  of  2^<^^'€nts  ^  A  man  may  be  pious 
and  amiable  in  his  family,  but  yet  be  so  indulgent,  or  timid, 
and  silent  at  his  children's  errors,  that  with  all  their  other 
advantages,  none  of  them  may  go  to  heaven. 

But  why  is  it  that  the  children  of  some  of  the  best  of 
Christians  are  yet  unconverted,  and  are  entering  upon  life 
impenitent  ?  The  answer  is  twofold.  First,  have  the  par- 
ents ceased  to  labor  and  pray  for  their  conversion  ?  Like 
the  king  of  Israel,  who  "  smote  only  thrice  and  stayed,"  the 
parents  may  now  suffer  for  their  want  of  faith  and  perse- 
verance. But  do  they  still  continue  instant  in  prayer,  in 
the  morning  sowing  their  seed,  and  in  the  evening  not  with- 
holding their  hand  ?  The  second  reply  is,  the  door  of  the 
ark  is  not  yet  shut.  Perhaps  the  conversion  of  the  children 
is  delayed  for  the  good  of  the  parents,  or  for  some  other 
wise  purpose.  Still  there  is  hope ;  in  due  season  you  may 
reap,  if  you  faint  not.  Never  despair  of  the  conversion  of 
a  child  who  has  been  a  subject  of  special  prayer  and  con- 
secration. 

Are  you  an  unconverted  husband  or  wife,  whose 
COMPANION  IS  A  CHRISTIAN?  You  are  standing  in  the  way 
of  your  children's  salvation.  Perhaps,  if  you  should  be  a 
Christian,  all  your  children  would  be  Christians.  If  you 
do  not  pray  for  them,  nor  with  them,  nor  converse  with 
them  in  a  religious  manner,  nor  set  them  a  decided  example 
of  religion,  that  may  be  the  reason  why  some  or  all  of  them 
are  unconverted.  There  are  several  hinderances  which  they 
cannot  pass  in  the  way  of  their  salvation,  and  you  may  he 
the  first.  If  you  were  removed  out  of  their  way  by  death, 
they  might  all  be  saved.  Are  you  willing  to  spend  eternity 
with  your  children  lost  ?  Shall  their  spirits  haurit  you 
through  the  shades  of  death,  for  having  prevented  their 
salvation  ? 


ALL  IN  THE  ARK.  13 

You  may  be  the  unconverted  child  of  pious  parents. 
It  may  be  that  your  parents  have  often  warned  you,  and 
prayed  with  you,  and  exhausted  all  their  endeavors  to 
bring  you  with  them  into  the  ark;  "but  ye  would  not." 
Are  you  the  elder  brother  or  sister  ?  The  guilt  of  breaking 
up  the  fiimily  circle,  it  may  be,  will  rest  on  you.  If  your 
example  did  not  hinder,  if  its  influence  were  good,  all  your 
father's  family  might  be  saved.  The  younger  children  in  a 
family  are  greatly  influenced  by  the  conduct  of  the  eldest 
child.  Are  you  willing  to  be  the  means  of  separating  the 
family  hereafter  ? 

How  many  happy  hours  you  have  had  around  your  fire- 
side !  Must  they  be  remembered  in  eternity  only  to  make 
you  wretched  ?  Unless  your  parents'  God  is  your  God, 
you  must  be  separated  from  your  parents  at  the  judgment, 
to  meet  them  no  more  for  ever.  God  calls  you  into  the  ark 
of  safety.  He  calls  upon  the  eldest  child  to  lead  the  way ; 
and  who  will  refuse  that  call  under  circumstances  of  so 
much  mercy  and  danger  ?  Accepting  it  now,  all  your  fam- 
ily may  go  to  heaven;  rejecting  it,  there  may  be  mourning 
amongst  you  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ. 

Perhaps  the  reader  is  the  only  member  of  a  family 
WHO  is  not  a  Christian.  Is  this  the  case  with  you,  be- 
loved friend  ?  All  your  family  going  to  heaven — parent, 
brother,  sister,  all  Christians,  all  in  the  ark  of  safety,  and 
you  still  exposed  to  the  last  great  tempest  ?  Think  of  your 
condition,  and  flee  from  it,  before  it  be  too  late.  There 
will  be  weeping,  and  wailing,  and  gnashing  of  teeth,  if 
you  should  see  the  family  in  heaven,  and  you  yourself  shut 
out. 

You  may  belong  to  a  family  of  which  not  one  soul 
is  pious.  Consider  the  sad  condition  and  prospects  of  such 
a  house  :  father  and  mother  leading  the  way,  and  children 
followinor  them  down  to  eternal  death.     What  can  be  the 

VuL.   X.  25 


14  ALL  IN  THE  ARK. 

consequence  but  that  the  whole  family  will  be  lost  ?  It  is 
truly  dreadful  to  think  of  a  whole  household  spending  eter- 
nity together  in  hell.  Are  you  a  member  of  such  a  family? 
Escape  for  your  life,  tarry  not  in  all  the  plain,  but  flee  to 
the  ark  of  safety,  lest  you  be  consumed.  Perhaps  the  rest 
will  follow,  but  deliver  your  own  soul. 

A  WORD  IN  CONCLUSION  TO  PARENTS. 

One  hundred  and  twenty  years  were  allotted  the  family 
of  Noah  to  prepare  for  themselves  the  ark  of  their  safety. 
Not  so  with  us.  The  ark  for  us  is  finished.  How  soon  its 
doors  may  be  shut  we  cannot  tell.  As  the  long-suffering 
of  God  waited  in  the  days  of  Noah,  so  has  it  waited  long 
for  you.  As  the  day  at  last  arrived  when  God  brought  in 
the  flood  upon  the  world  of  the  ungodly  and  condemned  it 
with  an  overthrow,  so  will  it  one  day  be  said,  "  The  door 
is  shut ;"  and  your  feelings  will  be  joyful  or  terrible  accord- 
ing as  you  and  yours  are  within  or  without  the  ark.  Seek 
admittance  there  without  delay.  God  will  notice  with 
favor  every  one  who,  in  the  presence  of  his  family,  builds 
an  altar  and  calls  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord.  Take  this 
first  step,  therefore,  towards  the  salvation  of  your  family, 
without  further  delay,  and  never  rest  till  you  are  all  in  the 
ark.  Then,  when  scenes  exceeding  the  terrors  of  a  univer- 
sal flood  and  of  a  burning  world  are  passing  in  the  crowds 
of  parents  and  children  at  the  bar  of  God,  your  Judge  and 
Saviour  will  say  to  you,  "  Enter  thou,  and  all  thij  house, 
into  the  joy  of  your  Lord." 


ALL  IN  THE  ARK.  15 

EARLY  EDUCATION-LATE  DEVELOPMENT. 

FROM  "  HOME  EDUCATION,"   BY  ISAAC  TAYLOR,  AUTHOR   OF  "  THE  NATURAL 
HISTORY  OF  ENTHUSIASM,"  ETC. 

The  doctrine  so  much  talked  of,  of  late,  and  so  eagerly 
followed  by  many,  is  that  of  development  ;  and  the  ques- 
tion put  on  all  sides  is,  ''What  are  the  readiest  and  the 
surest  means  of  expanding  the  faculties  at  an  early  age  ?'* 
But  the  very  contrary  doctrine  is  the  one  professed  and 
explained  throughout  this  work ;  for  I  am  bold  to  avow  my 
adherence  to  the  principle  of  repression  and  reserve  in  the 
culture  of  the  mind ;  and  it  is  this  principle  which  I  would 
fain  convince  the  reader  may  be  put  in  practice  consistently 
with  the  conveyance  of  really  more  information,  or  of  infor- 
mation more  comprehensive  and  substantial  than  is  usually 
communicated. 

The  rule  we  have  to  recommend  enjoins  that  excitement 
should  be  postponed,  while  nutriment  is  supplied ;  and,  in 
a  word,  that  the  mental  force  should  be  husbanded  rather 
than  used. 

Much  more  has  been  said  and  written  concerning  the 
things  that  are  to  he  taught,  and  the  method  of  teaching 
them,  than  concerning  i\\Q  faculties  of  the  mind  that  are  to 
be  trained,  and  the  natural  order  of  their  development. 

HAPPINESS  OF  CHILDREN. 

Adults  look  for  external  means  of  enjoyment,  and  seek 
happiness  in  the  gratification  of  specific  wishes  or  desires  ; 
but  an  infant,  simply  protected  from  positive  suffering,  is 
happy  from  the  stock  of  its  own  resources,  and  by  the  per- 
petual gush  of  joyful  emotions. 

The  happiness  of  children  is  not  a  something  to  be  pro- 
cured and  prepared  for  them,  like  their  daily  food,  but  a 
something  which  they  already  possess,  and  with  which 
we  need  not  concern  ourselves,  any  further  than  to  see  that 
they  are  not  despoiled  of  it.     This  simple    principle,   if 


IQ  ALL  IN  THE  ARK. 

understood,  trusted  to,  and  constantly  brought  to  bear 
upon  the  arrangements  of  a  family,  would  at  once  relieve 
the  minds  of  parents  from  an  infinitude  of  superfluous 
cares, 

A  child — let  it  not  be  deemed  paradoxical — a  child 
draws  its  happiness,  with  very  slender  aid  of  external 
means,  from  the  boundless  field  of  its  own  conceptions,  and 
from  the  treasures  of  its  own  unspent  emotions.  A  young 
person,  on  the  contrary,  asks  large  supplies  of  external  ex- 
citement, and  is  ever  eagerly  in  quest  of  extrinsic  means  of 
gratification.  During  the  first  period  of  life,  the  soul  is  oc- 
cupied in  evolving  the  elements  of  its  happiness  ;  during  the 
second,  in  imbibing  them ;  that  is  to  say,  in  gathering  new 
materials  for  future  combination. 

Let  any  one,  familiar  with  children,  analyze  a  child's 
tranquil  felicity  while  amusing  itself,  for  an  hour  or  more, 
with  nothing  better  than  a  crooked  stick,  or  a  handful  of 
pebbles. 

What  can  be  the  bare  gratification  of  the  sense  of  touch, 
or  of  the  muscular  power,  or  of  the  sight,  which  such  ob- 
jects can  convey  ?  It  must  be  reckoned  as  extremely  small ; 
nor  is  it  possible  to  watch  the  movements  and  countenance 
of  an  infant  of  fifteen  months,  or  two  years,  whilst  so  en- 
gaged, and  fall  into  the  great  error  of  supposing  that  its 
delights  are  chiefly  animal. 

It  is  the  MIND,  it  is  the  rich,  and  grasping,  and  excursive 
human  mind — such  even  in  infancy — that  is  at  work  on  the 
poor  materials  of  its  felicity.  This  crooked  stick,  or  these 
pebbles,  are  symbols  of  many  things  we  adults  do  not 
dream  of  in  such  a  connection. 


]%o.  388. 

CONVERSION 

OF 

DR.  CAPADOSE, 

A  JEWISH   PHYSICIAN  OF  AMSTERDAM; 

AUTHOR  OF  THE  TREATISE  "  JEHOVAH  JESUS,"   &C. 

WRITTEN  BY  HIMSELF  AT  THE  REQUEST  OF  REV.  PROF.  PETTAVEL 
AND  OTHERS.  NEUFCHATEL,  SWITZERLAND. 

ABRIDGED    FROM    THE    FRENXH    OF    THE    SOCIETIES    OF   THE    FRIENDS    OF    ISRAEL 
A.T    TOULOUSE    AND    NEUFCHATEL. 


No,  my  dear  friends,  I  will  no  longer  decline  to  meet 
your  pressing  demands,  or  to  fulfil  the  engagement  under 
which  you  have  placed  me,  to  relate  to  you  how  it  pleased 
the  God  of  all  grace  to  call  me  to  the  knowledge  of  him 
self,  and  bring  me  from  darkness  to  his  marvellous  light. 
My  soul  is  vividly,  is  deeply  convinced,  that  it  has  never 
of  itself  sought  the  Lord  ;  but  that  the  arm  of  his  compas- 
sion was  extended  to  it  while  in  its  lost  condition.  It 
would  then  be  false  modesty  to  refuse  you  that  which, 
communicated  in  conversation,  appeared  somewhat  edify- 
ing to  many  dear  friends,  who  saw  in  it  the  Saviour's  un- 
speakable love  for  so  wretched  a  sinner,  and  felt  them- 
selves urged  to  glorify  his  name. 

By  birth  a  Portuguese  Jew,  I  was,  nevertheless,  far 
from  being  a  zealot  in  the  cause  of  the  religion  of  my  an- 
cestors. My  education  had  been  moral  rather  than  reli- 
gious, inspiring  me  with  horror  of  vice,  and  love  for  what 
the  world  styles  virtue ;  but  the  goodness  of  God  alone 
preserved  me  from  open  impiety,  somewhat  later  in  life. 

At  an  early  age  I  was  ardently  engaged  in  the  pursuit 
of  literature  and  science ;  though  living  in  society,  and 

VOL.  X.  2.3* 


2  CONVERSION    OF    DR.    CAPADOSE. 

enthusiastically  fond  of  the  theatre,  balls,  and  all  worldly 
amusements,  I  derived  even  greater  satisfaction  from  study. 
In  my  youth,  also,  I  became  acquainted  w^ith  the  writings 
of  Voltaire  and  "Rousseau;  but  the  insolidity,  the  infidel- 
ity, and,  above  all,  the  terrible  consequences  of  their  sys- 
tems, unfolded  to  my  eyes  in  the  history  of  the  French 
revolution,  guarded  me,  through  the  grace  that  comelh 
down  from  on  high,  against  their  pernicious  influence. 

As  I  was  destined  by  my  parents  for  the  profession  of 
physic,  I  be^gan  to  acquire  the  knowledge  necessary  for 
that  vocation,  although  feeling  a  stronger  attraction  to  the 
theoretical  sciences  and  philosophical  investigation.  The 
circle  of  my  acquaintance  consisted  of  young  persons,  nomi- 
nally christians  ;  and  our  debates  at  the  academy  generally 
turned  upon  the  antinomianism  of  Kant,  or  the  philosophy 
of  Plato ;   in  short,  upon  all  kinds  of  abstract  questions. 

The  Lord  had  given  me  a  friend  (Mr.  Dacosta)  in  the 
bosom  of  my  kindred.  Both  of  us  Jews,  and  intimate 
friends  from  our  infancy,  we  had  similar  views  on  many 
subjects,  and  the  same  circle  of  acquaintance.  A  "  savant " 
of  the  academy  of  Leyden,  (the  celebrated  Bilderdeck,)  a 
man  of  extraordinary  genius,  a  distinguished  poet,  an  ex- 
cellent historian,  a  profound  philosopher,  and,  above  all, 
a  true  disciple  of  Christ,  assembled  around  him  at  thac 
time  a  few  studious  young  men.  My  friend,  who  had  long 
known  him,  and  I,  were  among  the  number  of  his  auditors. 
He  honored  us  with  peculiar  affection  ;  and  his  conver- 
sations contributed  not  a  little,  under  God,  to  direct  my 
mind  to  serious  contemplation.  Though  he  never  spoke  to 
me  of  Christianity  before  my  conversion,  he,  nevertheless, 
exercised  a  great  and  salutary  influence  over  my  heart. 
The  vivacity  and  fervor  of  his  soul,  the  nobleness  of  his 
sentiments,  the  force  of  his  logic,  the  depth  and  extent  of 
his  knowledge,  joined  to  an  ardent  desire  of  being  useful 
to  youth,  all  concurred  to  enrapture  us.  But  no  love  of  a 
Sjjiritual  religion  had  yet  entered  my  heart. 


CONVERSION    OF    DR.    CAPADOSE.  3 

It  is  true  that  in  early  childhood,  at  the  age  of  nine  years, 
I  felt  the  need  of  prayer  ;  and  asked  my  Jewish  parents 
for  a  prayer-book  in  the  French  or  Dutch  language,  that  I 
might  be  enabled  to  comprehend  the  object  of  ray  prayers. 
I  urged  my  brother  and  sister  to  do  likewise.  This  seems 
the  more  remarkable,  since  I  had  seldom  observed  those 
around  me  pray.  From  that  hour  I  have  not  ceased  to 
perform  this  duty,  through  all  the  changes  of  life  ;  and 
I  may  add,  that  this  prayer  formed  my  only  worship  up 
to  the  time  of  my  conversion.  This  form  ended  with  these 
remarkable  words  :   ''  I  wait  thy  deliverance,  O  Lord  !" 

I  have  retained  the  book,  and  never  cast  my  eyes  on  it 
without  being  melted,  and  adoring  the  goodness  of  the 
God  of  my  deliverance,  who  hath  deigned  to  give  me,  in 
maturer  age,  what  the  child  of  nine  years  ceased  n(;t  to 
pray  for  eveiy  night,  though  ignorant  of  the  meaning  of 
his  request. 

During  the  period  of  my  studies,  these  moments  of  pe- 
culiar emotion  returned,  leaving  very  deep  traces  in  my 
mind.  I  remember  that  a  poor  woman  was  in  the  habit 
of  singing  psalms  in  the  street  on  Saturday  evening,  to 
excite  the  compassion  of  passers  by.  More  than  once  1 
left  my  books,  when  the  singing  of  pious  hymns  reached 
my  ears,  being  irresistibly  drawn  to  the  window,  and  there 
I  remained  fixed  under  the  weig^ht  of  sensations  I  could 
not  define.  The  same  thing  occurred  to  me  when,  on  Sab- 
bath morning,  I  heard  the  melody  of  psalms  rise  from  un- 
der the  vaulted  roof  of  a  neio^hborinsr  church. 

I  went  frequently  to  the  theatre.  One  evening,  when 
"  Joseph  in  Egypt "  was  represented,  I  had  no  sooner 
heard  the  first  words  of  the  morning  hymn,  in  imitation  of 
the  Hebrew,  than,  full  of  patriotic  emotion,  I  felt  my  tears 
flowing.  Alas  !  it  was  only  an  illusion  before  me  ;  and 
profound  sorrow  soon  succeeded  this  sweet  dream  in 
which  I  had  been  absorbed. 

At  the  synagogue,  which  I  continued  to  attend  for  the 


4  CONVERSION    OF    Dll.    CAPADOSE, 

sake  of  decorum,  nothing  affected  me  in  the  least ;  on  the 
contrary,  those  heartless  ceremonies,  that  want  of  respect, 
those  shouts,  those  discordant  songs,  and  the  use  of  a 
tongue  unknown  to  more  than  three-fourths  of  the  assem- 
bly— all  this  spiritless  and  lifeless  display  so  disgusted  n^e 
that  I  no  longer  attended  regularly  ;  for  I  had  ever  abhor- 
red hypocrisy. 

Nevertheless,  to  give  us  a  change,  and  as  if  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  what  was  about  to  happen  some  years 
later,  the  tempter  put  it  into  the  heart  of  my  friend,  and 
mine,  to  alter  our  mode  of  life.  Both  of  us  enemies  to 
half  measures,  and  not  being  able  to  suit  ourselves  with 
this  modern  Judaism,  which  had  invented  the  art  of  taking 
up,  or  laying  aside,  according  to  convenience,  the  differ- 
ent injunctions  of  the  Mosaic  law,  we  firmly  resolved  to 
become  true  Israelites,  rigid  observers  of  every  article  of 
the  law,  intimidated  by  no  authority,  and  compelling 
even  christians  to  respect  the  Jewish  nation. 

National  pride,  that  sentiment  which  in  boyhood  led 
me  to  say  to  my  good  mother,  on  seeing  her  afflicted,  *'  Be 
consoled,  mother ;  when  I  am  grown  up,  I  will  carry  you 
to  Jerusalem ;"  increased  amazingly  at  this  epoch,  and 
took  the  place  of  every  other  emotion. 

It  was  in  this  disposition  of  heart,  and  with  these  reso- 
lutions, that  we  undertook  the  assiduous  readi?ig  of  the 
Bible.  But,  O  disgrace  !  O  wretchedness  of  the  uncon- 
verted soul  !  we  could  go  no  further  than  Genesis  !  In- 
cessant irony,  a  spirit  of  mockery,  and  often  even  (Lord, 
enter  not  into  judgment  with  us  !)  blasphemy  was  upon 
our  lips  while  engaged  in  prayer.  And  this  was  carried 
to  such  a  height  that  I  ended  by  saying  to  my  friend,  that 
it  were  better  to  renounce  our  reading  than  to  conduct  it 
in  this  manner. 

Our  plans  for  eminence  in  the  Jewish  religion  vanished 
like  smoke.  The  termination  of  my  professional  studies 
was  at  hand  :  this  was  in  1818.     I  took  my  degree  in  ma- 


CONVERSION    OF    DR.    CAPADOSE.  5 

dicine,  and  left  the  academy  where  my  time  had  not  been 
altogether  wasted.  I  returned  to  my  native  city,  Amster- 
dam, full  of  high  expectations  for  the  future  :  a  fair  and 
honorable  career  seemed  to  open  before  me. 

I  had  an  uncle,  one  of  the  first  physicians  of  Holland,  a 
literary  man,  and  justly  esteemed  by  the  best  families.  He 
possessed  public  confidence,  not  only  as  a  physician,  but 
also  on  account  of  his  social  relations.  Without  children, 
he  took  me  home  to  be  his  son  and  successor.  I  was  soon 
introduced  to  a  rich  circle  of  families ;  very  worthy  and 
honorable,  doubtless,  but  with  whom  Christianity  was  no- 
thing more  than  an  exterior  profession,  attended  by  a  life 
altogether  worldly. 

Although  for  some  years  I  had  been  oftener  in  the  so- 
ciety of  christians  than  in  that  of  my  fellow-religionists,  I 
am  sure  that  none  ever  spoke  to  me  of  Christianity.  My 
friends  and  young  colleagues,  with  whom  I  often  passed 
several  evenings  of  the  week,  did  not  appear  to  have  the 
smallest  idea  of  reliorion.  I  remember  that  once,  the  con- 
versation  falling  on  Christianity,  they  made  a  display  of 
their  infidelity,  and  spoke  with  very  little  respect  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  I  expressed  my  astonishment ;  add- 
ing, that  I,  a  Jew,  did  not  believe  in  Jesus  Christ;  but 
that,  in  my  opinion,  every  christian  who,  disbelieving  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  God,  still  continued  to  offer  prayer  and 
homage  to  him,  was  an  idolater. 

One  of  these  young  physicians  was  happily  converted 
some  years  later  :  he  recalled  to  my  mind  the  conversation 
of  that  evening,  and  assured  me  how  confused  he  had 
been,  that  so  severe  and  yet  so  merited  an  apostrophe 
should  be  uttered  by  the  mouth  of  a  Jew.  He  is  at  this 
time  one  of  my  dear  brethren  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  walks 
with  much  faith  and  fidelity.  How  admirable  are  thy 
ways,  O  Lord  !   and  thy  judgments,  how  righteous  ! 

Nevertheless,  in  the  midst  of  daily  increasing  occupa- 
tions, though  surrounded  by  all  the  comforts  of  life,  1  was 


6  CONVERSION    OF    DR.    CAPADOSE. 

far  from  being  inwardly  happy.  The  desire  of  knowledge, 
the  thirst  after  scientific  truths  augmented  within  me,  as 
worldly  pleasures  daily  grew  more  sickening.  But  all 
my  researches,  ail  my  studies,  all  my  endeavors  to  satisfy 
the  internal  want  that  tormented  me,  continued  fruitless, 
and  left  a  frightful  void  in  ray  soul. 

During  long  sleepless  nights,  occasioned  by  an  oppres- 
sion of  the  chest,  of  which  I  had  been  a  frequent  sufferer 
in  my  youth,  I  asked  myself,  in  the  midst  of  sad  reflec- 
tions, why  I  was  on  the  earth  1  "  What  is  man  V  said  I 
to  myself.  '*  Should  I  not  be  a  thousand  times  happier  if 
I  were  only  an  inferior  creature,  an  inhabitant  of  the  air, 
a  worm  of  the  earth  !  It  is  true  I  should  move  in  a  nar- 
rower sphere ;  but  then  I  should  not  undergo  what  I  am 
now  suffering  in  mind  and  body."  Many  a  time,  at  the 
close  of  my  evening  prayer,  which  I  uttered  aloud,  my 
heart  added,  "  would  that  this  were  the  last  day  of  my 
life!" 

I  have  preserved  the  correspondence  that  I  held  with 
two  of  my  friends  :  the  contents  of  their  letters  vividly  re- 
calls to  mind  my  sufferings  at  that  time.  One  of  these 
letters  commences  with  these  words ;  "  I  cannot  express  to 
you,  dear  friend,  the  shock  your  letter  has  given  me.  Your 
melancholy  seems  to  assume  the  character  of  despair ;  and 
what  must  be  the  consequence  with  a  constitution  so  feeble 
and  a  heart  so  sensitive  as  yours  1  No,  your  body  cannot 
hold  out,  dear  friend  ;  1  fear  that  you  will  soon  succumb," 
&c.  Then  follows  some  advice,  which,  though  dictated  by 
tlie  kindest  friendship,  was  yet  wanting  in  what  consti- 
tutes the  spirit  of  all  true  consolation. 

My  mode  of  life  dissatisfied  me.  Eager  in  quest  of 
truth  ;  seeking  every  where  a  certain  principle,  there  was 
not  a  day  of  my  life  passed  without,  alas  !  the  deplorable 
necessity  of  acknowledging  the  uncertainty  of  the  science 
to  which  I  was  devoted.  I  enjoyed,  indeed,  the  confidence 
of  my  patients ;  and,   by  the  grace  of  God,  was  what  is 


CONVERSION    OF    DR.    CAPADOSE.  7 

called  a  fortunate  physician  ;  yet  I  passed  my  days  in  pain- 
ful constraint. 

My  uncle,  the  worthy  old  gentleman  in  whose  house  I 
was  residing,  fatigued  by  the  numerous  occupations  of  the 
day,  was  not  pleased  to  see  me  consecrating  the  evening 
hours  to  study.  Impatient  to  give  myself  up  to  some  oc- 
cupation more  suited  to  my  taste,  I  was  free  only  at  night, 
and  thus  contracted  the  habit  of  sitting  up  till  a  very  late 
hour.  Nevertheless,  all  this  midnight  labor  left  still  exist- 
ing in  my  heart  the  frightful  void  which  so  embittered 
life.  It  was  not  that  I  felt  any  disquietude  for  my  sins ; 
assuredly  not,  for  in  that  case  I  should  have  shuddered  to 
demand  death  :  I  was  under  the  weight  and  curse  of  sin, 
without  suspecting  it,  or  even  seeking  a  remedy. 

One  day,  going  to  see  my  intimate  friend,  who  was  just 
married,  I  found  that  he  had  received  a  letter  from 
our  celebrated  professor,  with  whom  he  kept  up  a  literary 
correspondence.  "  Will  you  listen  to  his  letter,"  said  he, 
"  and  hear  with  what  line  verses  he  addresses  me  1"  Will- 
ingly, I  replied.  The  lines,  in  which  he  described  with 
energy  and  fervor  the  glorious  hopes  of  Israel,  were  in 
truth  sublime  :  they  ended  with  this  apostrophe  : — "  If 
thou,  dear  friend,  the  christian's  name  will  take,  contented 
I'll  my  spirit  yield.  My  life  were  a  small  boon  to  give 
for  thy  soul's  sake  !" 

At  these  words,  pronounced  in  a  low  tone,  I  felt  my  in- 
dignation aroused  ;  it  appeared  to  me  that  my  friend  had 
not  been  sufficiently  shocked  at  them.  *'  Take  care,"  said 
I,  ''  there  is  a  plan  formed  to  seduce  us  ;"  and  then  hastily 
departed. 

The  whole  day  my  mind  remained  absorbed  and  lost 
in  meditation.  I  could  not  conceive  how  a  man  of  such 
profound  science  could  believe  in  the  christian  religion  ; 
nor  how  one,  who,  for  so  many  years,  had  kept  up  the  closest 
intimacy  with  me,  without  ever  speaking  to  us  of  Christi- 
anity ;  who  even  appeared  to  have  so  much  respect  for 


8  CONVERSION    OP    DR.    CAPADOSE. 

the  Old  Testament,  should  suddenly  resolve  to  speak  to 
my  friend  in  this  tone.  My  heart,  naturally  inclined  to 
mistrust,  saw  here  only  an  adroit  attempt  to  seduce  us 
from  our  religion,  and  I  suffered  from  the  thought  that 
my  friend  did  not  partake  thoroughly  of  my  indignation. 
From  that  day  I  took  up  the  luord  of  God  with  the  inten- 
tio?i  of  examining  it.  My  friend  did  the  same;  and  after- 
wards, whenever  we  walked  out  together,  our  conversation 
turned  on  passages  of  Scripture  that  especially  fixed  our 
attention  Having  begun  with  the  Gospel  according  to 
Matthew,  I  was  struck,  in  the  commencement,  on  seeing 
how  this  evangelist,  very  far  from  reversing  the  authority 
of  the  Old  Testament,  rested  upon  it,  on  the  contrary,  as 
his  basis,  and  proposed  nothing  more  than  to  prove  the 
unity  of  the  two  Testaments  in  the  accomplishment  of  the 
prophecies 

In  this  way  many  months  passed,  when,  more  and  more 
encouraged  to  pursue  researches  that  daily  afforded  us 
greater  interest,  we  resolved  to  effect  what  we  had  at- 
tempted some  years  earlier,  though  with  a  very  different 
disposition  of  heart :  it  was  to  meet  as  often  as  possible,  to 
read  together  and  communicate  our  doubts  and  reflections 
to  each  other.  To  this  effect  we  retired  to  a  corner  of  the 
paternal  mansion;  and  it  is  not  without  vivid  emotion,  nor 
without  adoring  the  goodness  and  wisdom  of  God,  that  I 
recall  the  remembrance  of  those  happy  moments,  those 
hours  so  agreeable  and  so  blessed,  that  we  passed  toge- 
ther, as  it  were  in  the  presence  of  the  God  of  our  fathers. 
Our  zeal  and  interest  increased  as  we  advanced.  My 
mind,  wearied  with  fruitless  researches,  beheld  a  vast  and 
untried  field  open  before  it,  into  which  it  entered  with  an 
ardor  and  irresistible  attraction  that  I  recognized  later  as 
the  expression  of  my  heavenly  Father's  love,  by  which  He 
draws  to  his  dearly  beloved  Son  the  souls  he  would  save. 
This  meditation  on  the  word  of  God  became  at  length  the 
most  urgent  want  of  my  heart.     It  was  not  enough  that  I 


CONVERSION    OF    DR.    CAPADOSE.  9 

knew  the  truth,  I  fell  the  need  of  possessing  it  and  living 
on  its  substance. 

Although  I  could  not  then  discern  clearly  what  was 
passing  within  me,  nevertheless  I  remember  to  have  had 
moments  of  rapture  at  the  thought  that  I  could  perceive 
in  my  puth  visible  marks  of  divine  assistance  and  protec- 
tion. One  day,  when  my  friend  and  I  were  together,  oc- 
cupied with  our  accustomed  researches,  my  brother  sur- 
prised us  :  he  saw  on  the  table,  alongside  of  the  open  Bible, 
a  Spanish  author,  the  only  work  of  human  origin  we  pe- 
rused with  the  word  of  God.  He  opened  the  book  and 
read  the  title.  It  was  "  Defense  de  la  foi  chretienne  ;" 
("  a  defence  of  the  christian  faith,")  by  Professor  Hey- 
deck.  He  read  only  these  words  :  *'  Defense  de  la  foi," — 
("defence  of  the  faith  ")  "  What  are  you  engaged  in  every 
day  together]"  asked  he,  replacing  the  book  ;  "  do  you  de- 
sire to  become  Rabbis  1"  Then  changing  the  subject,  he 
left  us.  Here  we  saw  the  protecting  hand  of  God  ;  for  if 
my  brother  had  read  the  whole  title,  we  should  have  been 
discovered  ;  at  least,  the  suspicion  of  our  families  would 
have  rested  on  us. 

On  another  occasion  I  was  in  my  uncle's  library,  and 
ever  eager  to  meet  with  something  relating  to  that  which 
occupied  me  incessantly,  I  ran  my  eye  impatiently  over 
a  multitude  of  books,  to  find  one  that  would  tell  me  some- 
thing in  regard  to  Christianity.  At  last  I  discovered  a  large 
folio,  entitled,  "  The  Works  of  Justin  Martyr."  Although 
this  writer  was  at  that  time  entirely  unknown  to  me,  the 
title  of  Martyr  excited  a  hope  that  I  should  find  in  it  some- 
thing relating  to  Christianity.  I  opened  it,  and  the  first 
paragraph  on  which  my  eye  rested  was  the  **  Dialogue  ivitk 
Trypho  the  Jew.^^  I  read  it  hastily,  and  found  there  a 
succinct  exposition  of  the  prophecies  relating  to  the  Mes- 
siah, which  was  very  useful  to  me.  Here  was  very  evi- 
dently another  interposition  af  Providence,  and  my  heart 
was  deeply  touched  with  it. 

VOL.  X.  26 


10  CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE. 

One  night  1  was  reading  the  prophet  Isaiah  :  when  i 
came  to  the  fifty-third  chapter,  the  perusal  of  it  made  so 
vivid  an  impression  upon  me,  and  showed  me  so  clearly, 
and,  as  it  were,  feature  by  feature,  what  I  had  read  in  the 
Gospel  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  that  I  actually  thought 
some  other  Bible  had  been  substituted  in  the  place  of  my 
own  :  1  could  not  be  persuaded  that  this  fifty-third  chap- 
ter, which  may  be  justly  styled  a  Gospel  in  brief,  formed 
apart  of  the  Old  Testament.  On  reading  this,  it  seemed 
impossible  for  a  Jew  to  doubt  that  Christ  was  the  promised 
Messiah. 

Whence  came  so  strong  un  impression  1  I  had  often 
read  this  same  chapter,  but  this  time  I  read  it  with  the 
light  of  God's  Spirit.  From  that  hour  I  fully  recognized 
in  Christ  the  true  Messiah,  and  our  meditations  on  the 
word  of  God  took  a  new  turn.  This  was,  as  it  were,  the 
beo-inning,  the  aurora  of  a  glorious  day  to  our  souls  :  the 
light  continually  spread  more  of  its  vivifying  rays,  enlight- 
ened our  minds,  warmed  our  hearts,  and  afforded  me  even 
then  indescribable  consolation.  I  began  to  solve  the  where- 
fore of  many  of  the  enigmas  af  life,  that  had  occupied  my 
mind,  rather  to  weary  and  sadden,  than  to  tranquillize  and 
instruct  me.  Every  thing  around  me  appeared  to  possess 
new  life  ;  the  end  and  interest  of  my  existence  were  en- 
tirely changed.  Happy  days,  blessed  by  a  sense  of  the 
Master's  presence  !  I  shall  never  forget  them  !  It  seldom 
happens,  when  I  review  the  journey  of  the  two  disciples 
to  Emmaus,  that  the  recollections  of  those  days  when  my 
friend  and  I  met  and  walked  together,  do  not  come  up 
afresh  into  my  memory.  Like  them  we  can  say,  "  Did 
not  our  heart  burn  within  us  while  he  talked  to  us  by  the 
v/ay,  and  while  he  opened  to  us  the  Scriptures  1" 

I  have  remarked  above,  that,  by  the  guidance  of  God, 
we  had  abstained  from  communicating  to  any  person  what 
was  passing  in  our  hearts ;  and  that,  limiting  ourselves  to 
readino-  and  comparing  the  word  of  God,  we  neglected 
every  other  book,  excepting  the  work  of  Heydeck,  which 


CONVERSION  OF  Dll.  CAFADOSE.  11 

we  consulted  regularly.  This  author  had  been  a  rabbi  in 
Germany;  but  having  embraced  Catholicism,  he  was  elect- 
ed professor  of  the  oriental  languages  at  Madrid,  where  I 
believe  he  still  resides.  The  work  we  had  before  us,  writ- 
ten in  the  form  of  letters,  possessed  much  of  the  spirit  and 
knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  and  contained  a  defence  of 
Christianity  against  rationalism.  The  perusal  of  this  was 
doubly  useful  to  us,  since  we  had  occasion  to  remark  how 
powerful  the  logic  and  how  forcible  the  proofs  were,  when 
contending  against  the  opinions  of  a  Voltaire  and  a  Rous- 
seau ;  and  how  weak  they  were  when  defending  Catho- 
licism against  the  principles  of  the  Reformation. 

Whenever  I  had  a  leisure  moment  in  the  morninor  I 
always  absented  myself  to  read  the  word  of  God  ;  foi  I 
did  not  dare  to  do  so  in  my  uncle's  presence.  One  day 
I  had  been  more  particularly  engaged  with  this  passage 
of  the  eighth  chapter  of  Isaiah  :  "  Behold  a  virgin  shall 
conceive  and  bear  a  son,  and  shall  call  his  name  Imma- 
nuel."  I  descended  from  the  library,  and  found  a  Jewish 
physician,  a  friend  of  my  uncle,  waiting  in  the  anti-cham- 
ber :  he  was  turning:  over  the  leaves  of  a  new  edition  of 
the  Bible.  "  Here,"  said  he,  "  is  a  fatal  passage,  that  we 
can  hardly  wrest  from  the  christians."  It  was  the  very 
passage  of  Isaiah  on  which  I  had  been  meditating.  My 
mind  was  vividly  touched,  and  I  recognized  again  the  hand 
of  God. 

"  Ah  !  why,"  replied  I,  "  should  we  not  acknowledge 
the  truth  V 

In  the  meanwhile  my  uncle  entered.  It  was  the  dinner 
hour.  "What  question  are  you  debating]"  asked  he 
The  physician  informed  him ;  and  knowing  how  versed 
my  uncle  was  in  the  rabbinical  writings,  he  inquired  what 
our  rabbins  said  of  this  passage.  "  Alas  !  a  heap  of  non- 
sense," replied^  my  uncle,  rising  up.  We  entered  an  ad 
joining  room  where  dinner  was  served.  My  heart  beat 
strong,  and  I  inwardly  blessed  the  Lord  for  permitting  me 
to  hear  even  these  words,  much  as  they  indicated  his  want 


12  CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE. 

of  reverence  for  the  Divine  oracles,  from  the  mouth  of  a 
man  whose  rabbinical  science  gave  him  authority  among 
the  Jews. 

All  these  circumstances,  guided  by  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  of  God,  concurred  to  convince  me  more  and 
more  that  the  truth  loas  in  Christianity  alone.  But  what,  at 
the  outset,  was  only  the  desire  of  my  understanding,  had 
become  that  of  my  heart.  Ivnoidcdge  no  longer  satisfied 
me;  I  felt  the  need  oilove.  Then  it  was  that  the  rays  of 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  which  rises  upon  us  gradually, 
conveyed  to  me,  with  the  light  that  illumined  me,  that 
vivifying  and  celestial  warmth  which  gives  us  the  life  of 
God.  I  acknowledged  that  it  was  through  love  the  Saviour 
came  to  seek  me  :  I  now  began  to  feel  the  weight  of  my 
pins ;  or,  to  use  a  better  expression,  my  total  misery.  But 
this  sentiment  was  absorbed  in  that  of  divine  love.  I  had 
found  Christ  my  life,  the  central  point  of  all  my  affections 
and  all  my  thoughts,  the  only  object  capable  of  filling  the 
immense  void  in  my  heart ;  the  key  of  every  mystery  ;  the 
principle  of  all  true  philosophy,  of  every  truth — "  the 
Truth  "  itself 

By  degrees,  as  the  Spirit  of  God  confirmed  my  faith,  I 
felt  more  unhappy  in  the  position  in  which  I  found  myself, 
losing  in  my  uncle's  society  so  many  precious  hours  and 
evenings  that  I  could  have  desired  to  employ  in  further 
researches  into  the  only  subject  that  interested  me  on  earth. 

Every  day  I  felt  more  and  more  deeply  the  necessity  of 
coming  to  an  open  declaration  of  my  sentiments;  but  my 
uncle,  that  uncle  who  had  loaded  me  with  kindness,  who 
cherished  me  as  a  son,  who  saw  in  me  the  support  of  his 
old  age — how  could  I  resolve  to  avow  to  him  what,  con- 
sidering his  age  and  choleric  temperament,  could  not  fail 
to  make  an  impression  and  occasion  a  shock,  the  conse- 
quences of  which  were  incalculable  %  I  can  attest  to  the 
glory  of  God,  that  the  certainty  there  was,  in  case  I  made 
the  avowal,  of  losing  a  considerable  inheritance  that  await- 
ed me,  a  certainty  which  the  event  has  confirmed,  formed 


CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE.  13 

no  part  of  the  grounds  of  my  hesitation.  All  my  fears 
were,  lest  I  should  compromise  a  life  so  dear  to  me  ;  and 
the  idea  that,  by  a  word,  I  might  give  a  fatal  blow  to  this 
worthy  old  gentleman,  deprived  me  of  the  strength  and 
courage  requisite  to  unfold  my  sentiments.  Assuredly, 
with  more  faith  I  should  have  overcome  every  obstacle  ; 
but  in  the  state  in  which  I  then  was,  I  could  only  sigh  and 
groan  in  secret.  During  these  seasons  of  inward  struggle 
and  conflict,  my  sighs  rose  continually  to  the  God  who  had 
called  me ;  I  conjured  him  to  come  to  my  aid  and  to 
open  the  way  before  me. 

Acknowledge  how  attentive  the  God  of  compassion  was 
to  my  cry,  and  how  he  listened  to  the  voice  of  my  suppli- 
cation. My  uncle  was  in  the  habit  of  reading  the  public 
journals  aloud  after  dinner.  One  day,  when  I  was  seated 
at  my  customary  place  opposite  to  him,  in  a  state  of  indes- 
cribable depression,  I  heard  him  reading  a  notice  from  a 
Hamburg  journal,  which  ran  thus  :  ''  We  have  just  been 
witnesses  of  an  interesting  fact :  a  rabbi,  after  having  pub- 
licly announced  in  the  synagogue,  that  an  attentive  exa- 
mination of  the  prophecies  had  given  him  a  clear  convic- 
tion that  the  true  Messiah  had  come,  has  publicly  confess- 
ed the  christian  faith  in  our  city,  and  been  received  as  a 
minister  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ."  Whereupon  my  uncle 
added  these  words,  which  my  position  rendered  so  remark- 
able :  ''  You  know  my  way  of  thinking  :  if  this  man  has 
acted  thus  from  any  interested  motive  whatever,  he  de- 
serves contempt;  if  it  is  through  conviction,  he  has  a 
claim  to  respect." 

Christians  !  who  happily  compassionate  the  lively  emo- 
tions of  the  heart  of  a  fellow-being,  I  will  not  attempt 
to  describe  to  you  all  that  passed  in  mine  at  this  solemn 
moment !  In  a  transport  of  joy,  I  replied,  "  Yes,  uncle, 
God  has  given  you  these  sentiments  :  know  that  he  whom 
you  love  with  paternal  tenderness,  and  whom  you  call  by 
the  name  of  son,  is  in  the  same  position  as  this  rabbi !" 

I  pronounced  these  words  with  such  a  tone  of  voice, 

VOL.  X.  26* 


14  CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE. 

and  with  so  much  agitation,  that  my  poor  uncle,  speech- 
less and  alarmed,  thought  me  deranged  ;  and  going  out 
for  a  moment,  as  if  to  allow  me  time  to  return  to  myself, 
he  re-entered  and  spoke  of  other  matters.  But  my  mind 
was  too  much  absorbed  and  excited  to  listen  to  what  he 
saiJ  :  I  was  occupied  with  the  God  of  my  deliverance  ; 
for,  on  this  occasion,  I  had  felt  him  to  be  near.  It  was 
the  presence  of  the  Ado7iai  (God)  of  my  fathers  that  sus- 
tained me,  and  who  from  that  day  afforded  my  soul  a  con- 
solation it  had  never  experienced,  a  joy  and  energy  it  had 
never  known. 

Nevertheless,  I  saw  clearly  that  my  uncle,  although 
troubled  by  this  scene,  had  not  attributed  to  my  words 
the  importance  they  merited.  I  resolved,  then,  in  God's 
strength,  to  reiterate  my  declaration  on  the  morrow.  We 
were  alone  at  the  table,  according  to  custom  ;  my  uncle 
appeared  somewhat  pre-occupied  ;  he  was,  notwithstand- 
ing, on  very  good  terms  with  me.  After  dinner  I  began, 
but  this  time  with  calmness  and  decision,  by  saying,  I  re- 
marked, with  regret,  that  my  avowal  of  the  preceding 
evening  had  not  been  clearly  understood,  which  laid  me 
under  the  obligation  to  repeat  it,  as  if  in  God's  presence, 
with  the  hope  that  he  himself  would  one  day  acknowledge 
the  truth. 

There  was  no  longer  any  possibility  of  illusion,  and  a 
most  trying  scene  followed.  He  beat  his  breast — cursed 
his  existence,  and  cried  out,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul, 
that  I  was  bringing  down  his  gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the 
grave,  These  reproaches  pierced  my  heart ;  but  the  Lord 
strengthened,  consoled,  and  gave  me  grace  to  show  this 
dear,  venerable  old  grentleman,  marks  of  love  and  tender- 
iiess,  which  calmed  him  a  little.  The  next  day  he  communi- 
cated all  to  my  parents,  and  it  appeared  that  there  was  an 
understanding:  between  them  to  treat  me  with  tenderness. 
Who  could  tell,  but  that,  by  carefully  avoiding  all  conver- 
sation upon  this  topic,  these  ideas  might  pass  away  ] 
Nevertheless,  ray  family  were  not  slow  to  perceive  that 


CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE.  15 

this  was  impossible ;  I  began  even  to  embolden  myself, 
sometimes  preaching  the  Gospel  to  them ;  and  whenever 
occasion  offered,  I  no  longer  dissembled  my  sentiments. 

My  intimate  friend,  who  had  lost  his  father  some  months 
previous,  enjoying  more  liberty,  was  at  this  time  a  great 
source  of  consolation  to  me.  At  last,  my  uncle  seeing 
that  mildness  did  not  succeed  in  effacing  my  religious  con- 
victions, and  fearing  still  more  the  open  manifestation  of 
my  faith,  had  recourse  to  other  means,  which  led,  how- 
ever, to  results  opposite  to  his  expectation.  There  was 
not  a  sarcasm,  humiliation,  contempt,  or  severity  even, 
that  I  had  not  to  endure  from  him. 

I  do  not  complain  of  these  trials  ;  on  the  contrary,  I 
ought  to  consider  this  treatment,  severe  and  painful  to'the 
flesh,  in  the  light  of  real  blessings  from  God,  since  it  con- 
firmed my  faith,  and  was  to  me  a  new  testimony  of  the 
truth  of  the  Gospel,  the  open  and  full  confession  of  which 
has  ever  been  attended  with  every  kind  of  persecution. 

My  family,  also,  were  not  in  the  least  appeased,  seeing 
me  persevere  in  my  resolution  in  spite  of  all  that  had  been 
attempted  to  divert  me  from  it,  and  the  severity  practised 
towards  me  went  on  increasing.  This  was  the  period  of 
severest  trial  to  my  soul.  Rarely  did  I  meet  with  one 
of  my  relations,  whether  at  my  uncle's  house,  or  in 
that  of  my  parents,  without  enduring  painful  reproaches 
from  them. 

It  may  be  conceived  that  this  state  of  things  could  not 
last,  and  but  strengthened  my  ardent  desire  to  confess  my 
Saviour.  We  were  already  the  subject  of  public  conver- 
sation. Very  many  of  our  habits  were  altered  ;  we  no 
longer  frequented  the  same  society,  and  were  very  seldom 
seen  participating  in  the  pleasures  of  our  friends.  The 
cause  was  at  length  suspected,  and  called  forth  expres- 
sions of  grief  and  regret  on  the  part  of  our  nation.  They 
set  some  value  upon  us  ;  we  were  favorably  known,  and 
to  national  pride  was  added  the  flattery  of  the  idea  that 
I  possessed,  as  a  religious  companion,  such  a  man  as  ray 


16  CONVERSION  OK  DR.  CAPADOSE. 

friend,  who,  though  young,  had  superior  talents,  and  was 
versed  in  many  sciences  ;  above  all,  was  a  poet,  whose  ef- 
fusions, at  that  time  published,  had  been  received  with 
universal  applause. 

I  will  not  pass  over  in  silence  an  interesting  interview 
that  we  had  about  this  time  with  a  respectable  Rabbi,  a 
man  of  fasting  and  prayer,  emaciated  by  hard  diet,  and 
esteemed  for  piety  by  the  whole  Jewish  nation.  He  de- 
sired an  interview,  and  gave  us  calmly  some  written  ob- 
jections. It  was  not  difficult  to  refute  them.  Perceiving 
that  his  arguments  did  not  persuade  us,  he  attempted  an 
appeal  to  our  feelings.  "  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  rising  up 
with  solemnity,  ''in  a  few  days  all  of  our  religion,  in 
every  quarter  of  the  globe,  will  put  on  sackcloth  and 
ashes,  to  celebrate  the  great  day  of  propitiation.  Then 
every  Israelite  who  humbleth  himself  before  our  God, 
sincerely  confessing  his  sins,  is  sure  to  obtain  grace.  I 
conjure  you,  gentlemen,  to  reflect  seriously  upon  it ;  and 
if,  as  Israelites,  you  humble  yourselves  with  remorse  for 
the  design  you  have  dared  to  form,  you  will  be  pardoned 
by  our  God."  We  were  touched,  vividly  touched  by  his 
zeal ;  but  we  reminded  him,  that,  at  any  rate,  thebloodqf 
the  Messiah  alone  could  wash  us  from  all  sin. 

As  he  was  on  the  point  of  departing,  he  added  these 
remarkable  words  :  "  Well,  gentlemen,  I  have  acted  in 
accordance  with  the  command  of  duty  ;  now  that  we  are 
about  to  separate,  apparently  never  to  meet  again,  I  can- 
not conceal  from  you  that  I  thank  God  for  permitting  me 
to  find,  even  in  our  day,  jiersons  loho  believe  the  Bible.^' 
We  then  separated,  not  without  emotion  on  both  sides. 

At  length  the  moment  of  final  decision  had  arrived  ;  I 
could  defer  no  longer.  My  friend,  whose  position  was 
very  different  from  mine,  and  who  had  met  with  hardly 
any  opposition,  his  father  dying  before  our  secret  trans- 
pired, desired  to  wait  some  time  longer  ;  but  my  decision 
was  taken ;  he  joined  me,  and  I  acquainted  my  family 
with  my  resolution. 


CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE.  17 

They  wished  that  I  would  postpone  it,  or  at  least  that  I 
would  go  into  Germany,  or  elsewhere.  Perhaps  I  might 
have  yielded  to  this  wish,  but  the  fear  of  any  appearance 
of  shame  in  the  step  I  was  about  to  take,  led  me  to  reject 
every  proposition  of  the  kind  ;  only  we  promised  not  to 
join  any  church  in  the  city  where  our  families  resided, 
and,  as  it  were,  in  the  face  of  our  uncle,  who  was  chief 
of  a  commission  charged  by  the  king  to  take  care  of  the 
interests  of  the  Jews  of  Holland. 

Our  choice  naturally  fell  on  the  city  of  Leyden,  which 
had  such  sweet  recollections  in  our  hearts,  and  where  that 
dear  and  excellent  professor  dwelt,  with  his  worthy  spouse, 
whose  writings  and  conversation  had  exercised  so  marked 
an  influence  over  our  minds.  We  set  out  for  Leyden  in 
September — my  friend,  his  interesting  wife,  who  partook 
our  convictions  at  heart,  and  myself  We  were  received 
with  open  arms,  and  an  affection  truly  parental,  by  these 
worthy  friends,  who  had  taken  so  much  interest  in  our 
conflicts.  Who  more  deserving  than  they  to  participate 
in  the  celestial  joy  that  flooded  our  hearts  1 

The  20th  of  October,  1822,  was  the  day  so  ardently 
longed  for,  when  v/e  were  solemnly  received  as  members 
of  the  christian  church ;  there,  on  our  knees,  before  the 
God  of  our  fathers,  the  true  God,  the  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Spirit,  we  had  the  ineffable  happiness,  we,  unworthy, 
miserable  sinners,  to  confess,  in  the  midst  of  the  christian 
church,  the  blessed  name  of  that  great  God  and  Saviour 
who  had  sought  us  when  lost.  Glory  be  to  his  holy  name  ! 

The  text  selected  by  the  pastor,  as  the  subject  of  his 
discourse,  was  Romans,  11  :  5.  ^'Even  so  then  at  this  pre.- 
aent  time  also  there  is  a  remnant  according  to  the  election  of 
graced  Election  of  grace  !  This  is  the  conclusion  of  what 
you  have  just  read ;  it  is  an  abridgment  of  the  history 
of  my  conversion  ;  it  is  that  of  all  other  gratuitous  grace  ; 
grace  that  conducts,  grace  that  illumines,  grace  that  ena- 
bles one  to  suffer  for  the  name  of  the  Lord,  grace  that 
consoles,  grace  that  draws  to  Christ,  grace  that  gives  faith, 


18  CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE. 

grace  that  justifies,  grace  that  legenerates,  that  sanctifies  ; 
finally,  grace  for  grace,  and  to  the  glory  of  God,  whose 
free  and  gratuitous  election,  made  before  the  foundation 
of  the  world,  is  the  only  source  and  principle  of  all  grace, 
of  all  felicity. 

The  day  previous  to  our  public  entrance  into  the  chris- 
tian church,  we  took  leave  of  the  synagogue  by  letter.  I 
addressed  to  the  magistrates  of  the  Portuguese  Jewish 
nation  a  letter,  in  which,  while  authorizing  them  to  con- 
sider me  as  no  longer  a  member  of  the  synagogue,  I  pro- 
tested that  I  remained  an  Israelite,  hut  an  Israelite  ivlio 
had  found  his  Messiah,  and  who  ceased  not  to  offer  the  sin- 
cerest  ivishes  that  his  brethren,  according  to  thejlesh,  might 
speedily  return  to  the  Lord  their  God,  and  to  David  their 
king. 

A  few  days  after  my  public  renunciation  of  Judaism, 
I  received  a  letter  from  my  uncle,  in  which  he  announc- 
ed to  me,  that,  after  what  had  passed  and  some  new  ar- 
rangements made  in  his  household,  /  coidd  not,  on  my 
return  to  Amsterdam,  dwell  under  his  roof ;  that  he  did 
not  forbid  my  visiting  him,  but  this  was  only  under  the 
express  condition  that  I  should  never  speak  to  him  of 
my  sentiments.  On  my  return  to  Amsterdam  I  hired  a 
small  apartment  on  a  third  floor,  wliere,  alone  with  my 
God,  I  experienced  a  heavenly  joy  and  peace  that  passed 
all  understanding. 

My  dear  brother,  with  whom  I  often  conversed  on  the 
subject  nearest  my  heart,  and  who  weighed  the  considera- 
tions I  urged  with  great  seriousness,  at  length  fell  sick, 
and  died  suddenly,  crying  to  me  in  a  strong  voice,  and 
with  great  earnestaess,  "  Call,  call  my  mother  ;  call  my 
isister ;  I  am  dying — but  I  believe  in  God  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit.  I  believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  my 
Saviour.  He  is  Master — King  of  kings.  Ml  must  come  to 
him.  Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  and  America  belong  to  him. 
He  must  reign  over  the  whole  earth.  Announce  in  the  syna- 
gogue that  I  die  in  his  name.''' 


CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE.  19 

And  now,  my  brethren  in  Christ,  it  is  to  you  I  ad- 
dress myself  in  conclusion.  If  you  have  viewed  with 
christian  joy,  how  the  Lord  has,  in  his  unspeakable  good- 
ness, graciously  taken  some  little  broken  twigs  to  engraft 
them  anew  upon  the  "  cultivated  olive,"  forget  not  that  in 
tlie  whole  world  there  are  many  of  these  scattered  branch- 
es, now  with  neither  form  nor  comeliness,  neither  fruit  nor 
verdure,  but  possessing  still  the  sap  of  the  most  glorious 
promises. 

Forget  not,  that  if  they  are  still  ''  enemies,  as  touching 
the  Gospel,  for  your  sakes,"  they  are  also  "  dearly  beloved, 
as  touching  election,  for  the  fathers'  sakes ;  for  the  gifts 
and  calling  of  God  are  without  repentance."  Rom.  11  : 
28,  29.  Remember,  that  "  as  ye,  in  times  past,  have  not 
believed  God,  yet  have  now  obtained  mercy  through  their 
unbelief:  even  so  have  these  also  now  not  believed,  that 
through  your  mercy  they  also  may  obtain  mercy."  Rom, 
11  :  30,  31.  Above  all,  forget  not  the  immense  privilege 
to  which  you  are  called,  that  you  may  be,  by  your  prayers 
for  Israel;  and  your  charity  towards  them,  co-operators 
with  God,  who  desires  to  save  Israel  for  his  glory,  yes, 
for  his  glory ;  "  for  if  the  casting  away  of  them  be  the 
reconciling  of  the  world,  what  shall  the  receiving  of  them 
be,  but  life  from  the  dead?"  Rom.  11  :  15. 

The  day  is  not  far  distant,  the  happy  day  which  the 
apostle  hails  from  afar  with  rapture  and  adoration,  when 
he  exclaims,  "  O  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the  wis- 
dom and  knowledg;-e  of  God  !  How  unsearchable  are  his 
judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding  out!"  Rom.  11  :  33. 
"  And  it  shall  come  to  pass,  when  all  these  things  are 
come  upon  thee,  the  blessing  and  the  curse  which  I  have 
set  before  thee,  and  thou  shalt  call  them  to  mind  among 
all  the  nations  whither  the  Lord  thy  God  hath  driven  thee, 
and  shalt  return  unto  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  shalt  obey 
his  voice  according  to  all  that  I  command  thee  this  day, 
thou  and  thy  children,  with  all  thy  heart  and  with  all  thy 
soul,  that  then  the  Lord  tliy  God  will  turn  thy  captivity, 


20  CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE. 

and  will  have  compassion  upon  thee,  and  will  return  and 
gather  thee  from  among  all  the  nations  whither  the  Lord 
thy  God  hath  scattered  thee.  If  any  of  thine  be  driven 
out  to  the  outmost  parts  of  heaven,  from  thence  will  the 
Lord  thy  God  gather  thee,  and  from  thence  will  he  fetch 
tlice.  And  the  Lord  thy  God  will  bring  thee  into  the  land 
which  thy  fathers  possessed,  and  thou  shalt  possess  it,  and 
he  will  do  thee  good  and  multiply  thee  above  thy  fathers  " 
Deut.  30  :  1—5.  Yes,  the  Lord  is  faithful.  It  is  by  an  oath 
that  he  promised  Abraham  that  his  posterity  should  one 
day  possess  Canaan  "  from  the  river  of  Egypt  to  the  great 
river,  the  river  Euphrates  ;"  Gen.  15  :  IS  ;  Exod.  23  :  31  ; 
Gen.  26  :  3  ;  Ps.  105  :  9  ;  and  that  this  possession  should 
be  "  for  ever;"  Gen.  13  :  15  ;  "  an  everlasting  possession  ;" 
Gen.  17  :  7,  8  ;   ''for  ever r  2  Chron.  20  :  7. 

Behold  the  great  promise,  that,  until  now,  has  not  been 
accomplished  !  Israel,  it  is  true,  has  possessed  the  land 
of  Canaan,  but  never  with  an  extent  of  territory,  nor  for 
a  period  of  time  proportioned  to  the  grandeur  of  the  pro* 
mise.  Under  the  reign  of  Solomon  alone  have  the  limits 
of  Israel's  kingdom  extended  to  the  Euphrates  ;  and  this 
triumph  was  brief,  for  we  find  that  the  prophet  Isaiah,  in 
a  touching  supplication,  in  which  he  enumerates  the  bless- 
ings of  the  Almighty,  and  the  numberless  deliverances  of 
which  Israel  had  already  been  the  object,  calling  to  mind 
this  promise  of  the  inheritance  of  Canaan,  exclaims,  "  Re- 
turn, for  thy  servants'  sake,  the  tribes  of  thine  inheritance. 
The  people  of  thy  holiness  have  possessed  it  (the  country) 
hut  a  little  whiley  Isaiah,  63  :  17,  18. 

This  promise  of  perpetual  possession  has  not  yet  been 
fully  accomplished  ;  but  it  will  be.  Yes  it  will  be  under 
the  reign  of  the  true  Solomon,  of  the  promised  Messiah, 
of  the  Lord  of  Glory,  of  the  King  of  Israel,  for  he  it  is 
who  shall  rule  "  from  sea  to  sea,  from  the  river  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth."  Ps.  72  :  S.  Yes,  it  will  be  when  the  Al- 
mighty shall  return  unto  Sion,  and  shall  dwell  in  the 
midst  of  Jerusalem  ;   when  ''  Jerusalem  shall  be  called  a 


CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE.  21 

city  of  trulh,  and  the  mountain  of  the  Lonl  of  Hosts,  the 
holy  mountain."  Then  the  Lord  shall  say,  "  Behold,  I  will 
save  my  people  from  the  east  country,  and  from  the  west 
country,  and  I  will  bring  them,  and  they  shall  dwell  in  the 
midst  of  Jerusalem  :  and  they  shall  be  my  people,  and  I 
will  be  their  God  in  truth  and  in  righteousness."  Zec!»- 
8  :  3,  7,  S. 

"  There  is  hope  in  thine  end,  saith  the  Lord,  that  thy 
children  shall  come  again  to  their  own  border.  Behold, 
the  days  come,  saith  the  Lord,  that  I  will  sow  the  house 
of  Israel  and  the  house  of  Judah  with  the  seed  of  man, 
and  with  the  seed  of  beast.  And  it  shall  come  to  pass, 
that  like  as  I  have  watched  over  them,  to  pluck  up,  and  to 
break  down,  and  to  throw  down,  and  to  destroy,  and  to 
afflict ;  so  will  I  watch  over  them  to  build  and  to  plant, 
saith  the  Lord.  Behold,  the  days  come,  that  the  city  shall 
be  built  to  the  Lord,  from  the  tower  of  Hananeel  unto 
the  gate  of  the  corner.  And  the  measuring  line  shall  yet 
go  forth  over  against  it  upon  the  hill  Gareb,  and  shall 
compass  about  Goath.  And  the  whole  valley  of  the  dead 
bodies,  and  of  the  ashes,  and  all  the  fields  unto  the  brook 
of  Kidron,  unto  the  corner  of  the  horse-gate  towards  thf? 
east,  shall  be  holy  unto  the  Lord ;  it  shall  not  be  plucked 
up.  nor  thrown  down,  any  more  for  ever."  Jer.  31  :  17, 
27   28,  38,  39,  40. 

Ah  !  if,  by  divine  direction,  these  lines  should  fall  into 
the  hands  of  any  of  the  children  of  Abraham,  but  who 
have  not  Abraham's  faith — of  those  Israelites,  my  dearly- 
beloved  brethren  according  to  the  flesh,  who  are  now 
poor,  but  with  the  riches  of  the  divine  word  in  their  hands  , 
miserable,  but  having  the  blood  of  the  prophets  in  their 
veins  ;  despised  and  wandering  over  the  whole  earth,  but 
with  the  promise  of  eternal  glory,  if  they  should  be  con- 
V'jrted  ;  may  these  lines  remind  them  that  this  word,  these 
promises,  this  blood  of  the  prophets,  urge  them  to  ex- 
amine attentively  what  thpse  prophets  have  spoken,  and 
VOL.  X.  27 


22  CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE. 

by  whom  their  promises  must  have  their  accomplishment 
for  them'  of  whom  this  word  is  fulL 

Yes,  may  they  speedily,  by  God's  grace,  acknowledge 
that  this  precious  Bible,  which  they  preserve,  and  upon 
which  their  faith  as  well  as  our  own  is  founded,  contains 
pi'ophetically  the  entire  history  of  the  Messiah  :  his  origin, 
his  nature,  his  birth,  his  life,  his  death,  his  resurrection 
and  ascension  to  the  right  hand  of  God  his  heavenly  Fa- 
ther; his  spiritual  reign;  his  return  to  glory ;  finally  his 
reign  as  King  of  Israel,  priest  and  prophet. 

Behold  what  I  have  been  taught  by  my  researches  in 
the  word  of  God.  May  these  lines  excite  in  them  also  the 
desire  to  seek  after  the  truth  !  They  will  see  that  the 
Messiah  promised  to  our  fathers,  must  have  been  the 
only  begotten  Son  of  God,  God  eternal,  one  with  the 
Father  and  Holy  Spirit,  according  to  the  Scriptures ;  for 
He  is  called  ''  God,"  and  ''  the  Son  of  God,"  by  David  ; 
Ps.  45  :  6;  Ps.  110  :  1 ;  by  Isaiah,  ''  Wonderful,  Coun- 
sellor, the  mighty  God,  the  Everlasting  Father,  the  Prince 
of  Peace  ;"  Isaiah,  9:6;  by  Jeremiah,  ''  The  Lord  our 
Righteousness  ;"  Jer.  23  :  6  ;  by  Malachi,  ''  the  Lord  ;" 
Mai.  3:1;  that  this  Messiah  was  to  take  our  nature  and 
be  born  of  a  virgin,  according  to  the  Scriptures  ;  for  he  is 
called  the  seed  of  the  woman,  Gen.  3  :  15  ;  ''  the  child 
of  a  virgin  ;"  Isaiah,  7:14;  that  this  Messiah  was  to  be  the 
descendant  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  according  to  the 
Scriotures,  for  He  is  called  ''  the  seed  of  Abraham  ;"  Gen. 
22  :  18;  that  He  was  to  be  of  the  tribe  of  Judah  and  of 
the  house  of  David,  according  to  the  Scriptures ;  for  He 
is  called  "  a  Rod  from  the  stem  of  Jesse  ;  Isaiah,  11:1; 
^'  out  of  David  a  righteous  Branch  ;"  Jer.  23  :  5  ;  that  He 
was  to  be  born  in  ''  Bethlehem,"  Mic.  5:2;  that  at  that 
time  ''  the  sceptre  should  be  taken  from  Judah,"  Gen. 
49  :  10  ;  that  the  Messiah  should  have  Elias  for  his  pre- 
cursor, "  preaching  in  the  wilderness  and  preparing  the 
way,"  according  to  the  Scriptures,  Isaiah,  40  :  3.  Mai,  3:1; 
that  the  Messiah  should  accompany  his  preaching  witli 


CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE.  23 

many  miracles,  Isaiah,  35  :  .5,  6  ;  that  He  should  "enter 
Jerusalem  upon  an  ass,"  Zech.  9:9;   that  He  should  ap- 
pear poor  and  humble,  "  having  no  form  nor  comeliness, 
the  despised  and  rejected  of  men,"  Isaiah,  53  r2,  3  ;  that 
one    of   his    disciples    should   "  betray    him,"   Ps.  41  :  9  ; 
that  He  should  be  sold  for  "  thirty  pieces  of  silver,"  Zech, 
11  :  12 ;   that  He  should  be  "smitten  with  rods,  reviled, 
spit  upon,"  Isaiah,  50  :  6  ;  that  He  should  be  "  nunjbered 
with  the  transgressors,"  Isaiah,  53  :  12  ;   "  smitten,  and  af- 
flicted of  God,   Isaiah,  53  :  4 ;  but   that  these   suffei'ings 
should  be  upon  him  "  for  our  transgressions,"  Isaiah,  53  :  5  ; 
that  He  should  be  "  crucified,"  Deut.  21:23;  that  they 
should  "  pierce  his  hands  and  his  feet,"  Ps.  22  :  16  ;  that 
He  should  be  "  reviled  even  on  the  cross,"  and  made  to 
drink  "  gall  and  vinegar,"  Ps.  22  :  7;  69  :  21  ;   that  they 
should  "  divide  his  garments  among  them,  and  for  his  ves- 
ture cast  lots,  Ps.  22  :  18  ;  that  "  not  a  bone  of  him  should 
be  broken,"  Exod.  12  :  46 ;  34  :  20  ;  that  his  death  should  be 
violent,  Isaiah,  53  :  8 ;  Dan.  9  :  26  ;  that  He  should  "  make 
his  grave  with  the  wicked,  and  be  with  the  rich  in  his  death; 
Isaiah,  53  :  9  ;  that  He  should  "  not  see  corruption,"  Ps. 
16:10;  but  that  on  "  the  third  day  "  he  should  "  rise  again," 
Isaiah,  53  :  10  ;  Jonah,  1  :  17  ;  that  He  should  "  ascend  into 
heaven  and  sit  down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father,  Ps. 
68: 18;  and  that  thence  He  should  "send  his  Holy  Spi- 
rit." Joel,  2  :  28. 

When  you  have  thus  united  all  these  features  of  the 
promised  Messiah,  which  the  Almighty  has  traced  so 
clearly,  so  distinctly,  to  the  very  minutest  details,  that 
Israel  should  not  be  deceived  by  any  false  Messiah  ;  when 
you  have  placed  before  you,  as  it  were,  face  to  face,  the 
image  of  him  upon  whom  your  salvation  rests,  open,  O 
my  dear  brethren  in  the  flesh,  open  the  New  Testament, 
praying  God  to  enable  you  to  examine  its  contents  with 
a  sincere  desire  to  know  the  truth,  and  the  glorious  light 
of  the  God  of  truth  will  lead  you  to  acknowledge,  with 
adoration,  that  all  these  characterizing  features  of  the  true 


84  CONVERSION  OF  DR.  CAPADOSE. 

Messiah  are  to  be  found,  wilh  the  most  scrupulous  exact- 
ness, in  the  person,  the  lite,  and  death  of  Jesus  Christ, 
that  Saviour  blessed  for  evermore,  w^ho  will  soon  com.e  in 
glory  with  his  holy  angels.  Then  Jerusalem  shall  be  to 
him  a  name  of  rejoicing,  of  praise  and  glory  among  all 
the  nations  of  the  earth,  who  shall  hear  the  good  that  he 
will  do  to  Israel ;  for,  "  I  will  cause  the  captivity  of  Judah, 
and  the  captivity  of  Israel,  to  return,"  saith  the  Lord, 
"  and  I  will  build  them  as  at  the  first.  And  I  will  cleanse 
them  from  all  their  iniquity,  whereby  they  have  sinned 
against  me ;  and  I  will  pardon  all  their  iniquities  whereby 
they  have  sinned,  and  whereby  they  have  transgressed 
against  me."  J^r.  33  :  7,  S. 

*'  And  I  saw  thrones,  and  they  sat  upon  them,  and  judg- 
ment was  given  them  :  and  I  saw  the  souls  of  them  that 
were  beheaded  for  the  witness  of  Jesus,  and  for  the  word 
of  God,  and  which  had  not  worshipped  the  beast,  neither 
his  image,  neither  had  received  his  mark  upon  their  fore- 
heads or  in  their  hands;  and  they  lived  and  reigned  with 
Christ  a  thousand  years.  But  the  rest  of  the  dead  lived 
not  again  until  the  thousand  years  were  finished.  This  is 
the  first  resurrection.  Blessed  and  holy  is  he  that  hath 
part  in  the  first  resurrection  :  on  such  the  second  death 
hath  no  power;  but  they  shall  be  priests  of  God  and  of 
Christ,  and  shall  reign  with  him  a  thousand  years.  Apo- 
cal.  20  :  4-6. 

"  And  the  Spirit  and  the  bride  say.  Come.  And  let  him 
that  heareth  say.  Come.  And  let  him  that  is  athirst  come. 
And  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely." 
Apocalypse,  22  :  17.    Amen  ! 

Note. — Rev.  Professor  Pettavel  has  annexed  to  the  French  edi- 
tion a  brief  sketch  of  the  history  of  Dr.  Capadose  down  to  August, 
1837.  showing  how  he  had  been  sustained  in  trials,  especially  the 
death  of  a  beloved  and  cliristian  wife  ;  and  the  blessing  that  had  at- 
tended the  first  part,  and  his  completion  of  the  second  part  of  his 
'  Jehovah  Jesus,"  or  "  Crowd  of  Witnesses  to  the  Divinity  of  Christ 
the  Saviour." 


IVo.  389. 

DO  YOU  FORGIVE  ALL  YOUR  ENEMIES  ? 


There  are  many  good  reasons  for  doing  so. 

He  who  does  not  forgive  his  enemies,  will  often  mistake 
friends  for  foes.  Being  revengeful,  he  will  be  suspicious. 
He  will  misconstrue  men's  actions,  and  misjudge  their  mo- 
tives. Should  any  give  him  that  rare  token  of  valuable 
friendship  which  consists  in  affectionate  reproof,  he  would 
esteem  it  unkind.  For  the  same  reason  he  would  cherish 
jealousy,  and  would  mark  almost  all  actions  with  an  evil 
eye.  Turning  friends  into  foes,  in  this  way,  is  most  injuri- 
ous ;  it  is  self-torment. 

But  suppose  that  some  are  your  real  enemies.  Perhaps 
you  have  given  them  much  provocation.  If  so,  remember 
their  fault  does  not  cancel  yours,  nor  can  their  sin  be  a  cloak 
for  your  criminality.  At  least,  be  honest,  and  take  as  much 
blame  to  yourself  as  you  ascribe  to  them. 

Although  your  enemy  wantonly  intends  to  do  you  evil, 
yet  God  may  superintend  to  do  you  good.  So  his  hatred 
shall  not  hurt,  and  may  even  benefit  you.  Thus,  the  plot- 
ting of  Joseph's  brethren  led  to  his  promotion  at  the  court  of 
Pharaoh.  The  curses  of  Shimei  were  the  precursors  of  Da- 
vid's triumphant  return  to  the  holy  city.  "  Let  him  alone," 
said  the  royal  fugitive,  "  and  let  him  curse,  for  the  Lord  hath 
bidden  him.  It  '}nay  he  the  Lord  icill  requite  me  good  for 
his  cursing  this  day.''  \i\  like  manner,  Avhen  your  enemies 
assail  you,  look  up  to  God  and  say, 

"  When  men  of  spite  against  me  join, 
They  are  the  sword,  the  hand  is  thine," 

and  he  ^vill  not  suffer  the  sword  to  prosper  against  you. 

God  commands  you  to  lay  aside  all  malice — to  put  off 
anger,  wrath,  and  bitterness — to  recompense  to  no  man  evil 
for  evil — to  forbear,  and  to  forgive.  He  who  breaks  God's 
commandments,  must  bear  God's  anger. 

They  who  do  not  exercise  forgiveness,  shall  not  receive  it. 
He  who  lives  and  dies  unpardoning,  lives  and  dies  unpar- 
doned.    The  true  Witness  hath  said,  "  If  ye  forgive  not  men 
their  trespasses,  neither  will  your  Father  forgive  your  tres- 
VOL.  X.  27* 


2  DO  YOU  FORGIVE  ALL  YOUR  ENEMIES? 

passes."  What  terror  these  words  bear  to  all  the  unfor- 
giving. 

Not  to  forgive  is  a  daring  assumption  of  the  awful  'pre- 
rogative of  God.  "  Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay,  saith 
the  Lord.  Who  art  thou  that  judgest  another  man's  ser- 
vant ?  To  his  own  master  he  standeth  or  falleth."  Surely 
God  will  rebuke  the  intrusion  of  yourself  into  his  judgment- 
seat.  So  the  blow  which  you  aim  at  your  fellow-sinner  and 
fellow-servant  will  return  upon  your  own  soul. 

The  best  and  ivisest  men  in  every  age  have  practised 
forgiveness.  When  Stephen  was  enduring  that  dreadful 
death  by  stoning,  he  cried,  "  Lord,  lay  not  this  sin  to  their 
charge."  All  the  martyrs  followed  his  example.  When 
reviled,  they  blessed.  And  saints  of  later  times  have  done 
the  same.  How  creditable  it  is  to  the  memory  of  one  of  the 
reformers,  that  "  he  never  forgot  any  thing  except  injuries." 
Who  would  not  be  like  such  a  man  ? 

To  forgive  the  most  bitter  enemies  is  to  be  like  Jesus, 
who,  beholding  the  unfeeling  cruelty  of  his  enemies  in  mock- 
ing his  dying  agonies,  yet  in  that  dreadful  hour  not  only 
prayed  for  their  forgiveness,  but  firamed  an  argument  in  ex- 
tenuation of  their  guilt :  ' '  Father,  forgive  them  ;  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do."  Would  you  not  be  like  Christ  ? 
Can  you  ever  be  "  satisfied  "  until  you  awake  in  his  likeness  ? 

You  wish  to  be  great.  Then  remember,  that  there  is 
more  greatness  in  ruling  your  own  spirit  than  in  taking  a 
city.  The  poorest  of  all  contrite  souls  has  the  preeminence 
over  him  who  should  subdue  the  earth  to  his  sceptre,  but 
should  not  subdue  his  own  passions.  "  It  is  the  glory  of  man 
to  pass  over  a  transgression."  To  err  is  human.  To  revenge 
is  devilish.     To  forgive  is  divine. 

It  is  a  mark  of  peculiar  guilt  and  folly  not  to  forgive. 
The  best  authority  teaches,  that  "anger  rests  only  in  the 
bosom  of  fools,"  and  that  to  "  hate  a  man  is  to  be  a  mur- 
derer." 

Forgiveness  often  cojiverts  foes  into  frieiuls.  It  may 
thus  affect  your  enemies.  It  would  be  very  pleasant  to 
secure  the  good- will  of  those  who  dislike  you.  But  resent- 
ment will  only  irritate  and  enrage.  No  enemy  is  won  by 
hatred.  Leviathan  is  never  thus  tamed.  "  Grievous  words 
stir  up  anger."  It  is  "  a  soft  answer"  that  "  turns  away 
wrath."     Learn  to  overcome  evil  with  good. 


DO  YOU  FORGIVE  ALL  YOUR  ENEMIES?  3 

E-emember,  too,  that  you  are  not  nuich  liurt  until  your 
soul  is  hurt.  The  bitterness  of  enemies  is  not  the  bitterness 
of  death.  Who  can  harm  you  if  you  follow  that  which  is 
good  ?  Malignity  in  striking  one  dagger  against  the  bosom 
of  its  object,  buries  ten  in  the  heart  of  the  assailant.  The 
most  expensive  of  all  methods  of  being  equal  to  your  foe  is 
to  hate  him.  The  cheapest  mode  of  gaining  a  lawful  and 
undoubted  advantage  over  him  is  to  forgive  him. 

He  who  does  not  forgive,  must  prepare  for  strife  and 
every  evil  work.  It  is  a  wise  rule  to  "  leave  off  contention 
before  it  be  meddled  with."  Defile  not  thy  conscience,  im- 
bitter  not  thy  life  with  M'^ars  and  fightings. 

Besides,  you  and  your  enemy  will  soon  stand  together 
at  the  same  bar  of  o^imiscient  judgment.  If  he  has  to  be 
judged,  so  have  you.  Nor  can  you  deny  that  you  have  often 
and  very  wickedly  sinned  against  God.  Why  should  you 
not  be  merciful,  that  "  you  may  obtain  mercy  ?"  You  owe 
your  Lord  ten  thousand  talents.  Why  should  you  not  for- 
give your  fellow-servant  fifty  pence  ?  If  God  bring  you  into 
judgment,  you  cannot  answer  for  one  of  a  thousand  of  your 
heinous  sins  against  him.  Does  it  then  become  you  to  be 
unforgiving  respecting  the  few  and  slight  offences  committed 
against  yourself? 

Christianity  is  practically  worth  very  little  to  him  whom 
it  does  not  enable  to  triumph  over  all  sinful  enmities.  To 
embrace  the  bitterest  enemy  in  the  arms  of  holy  benevolence 
is  one  of  the  earliest,  and  simplest,  and  grandest  achieve- 
ments of  vital  and  evangelical  piety.  Shall  your  religion 
be  worthless  ? 

Prayer  for  your  enemies  will  be  much  more  likely  to 
make  them  ashamed  and  miserable,  until  they  cease  their 
hostility,  than  any  thing  that  revenge  can  inflict.  Even 
persecution  herself  has  been  known  to  grow  pale,  and  to 
quake  under  the  influence  of  hearty  prayer. 

Eternity  is  near.  Unconceived  glories  or  terrors  will 
soon  strike  aAve  into  every  soul  of  man.  Then  all  the  petty 
strifes  among  the  potsherds  will  be  divested  of  their  unreal 
consequence ;  and  many  things  on  earth  regarded  as  great, 
will  consume  away  like  the  fat  of  lambs.  Look  at  the 
grounds  of  your  enmity.      Can  you  justify  it  in  eternity  ? 

Thus  are  you  called  and  urged  to  the  duty  of  forgiveness. 
More  sublime  sanctions  attach  to  no  human  obligation. 


4  DO  YOU  FORGIVE  ALL  YOUR  ENEMIES? 

And  now,  do  you  forgive  all  your  enemies  ?  Perhaps 
you  say,  "  I  can  forgive,  but  I  can't  forget."  If  you  mean, 
that  you  cannot  erase  from  the  tablet  of  your  memory  all 
impression,  so  as  to  be  wholly  unable  to  recollect  the  offence, 
then  you  are  not  required  to  forget.  In  this  sense  Jehovah 
does  not  forget  our  offences.  Yet  he  says,  "  Their  sin  and 
their  iniquities  will  I  remember  no  more."  Now  we  are 
required  to  forgive  as  he  forgives.  When  you  are  required 
to  forget  as  well  as  forgive,  the  meaning  is,  that  you  must 
not  willingly  retain  a  remembrance  of  the  offence — thoughts 
of  it  must  not  be  cherished — the  recollection  of  it  must  not 
awaken  animosity ;  nor  must  the  repetition  of  the  offence 
rekindle  old  anger  or  hatred.  You  must  also  forgive,  how- 
ever often  the  offence  be  repeated,  though  it  be  "  seven  times 
a  day,"  or  "  seventy  times  seven."  You  must  love  your 
enemy  ;  pray  for  him  ;  wish  well  to  him  ;  do  him  good  ;  if 
he  be  hungry,  feed  him ;  if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink  ;  if  he 
be  naked,  clothe  him.  And  you  must  do  all  sincerely,  ha- 
bitually, benevolently,  willingly ;  not  for  a  pretence,  nor  by 
constraint  of  the  fear  of  hell.  The  sorrows  and  sufferings  of 
your  most  cruel,  unrelenting,  and  persevering  foe  must  be 
no  matter  of  joy  to  you.  "  He  that  is  glad  at  calamities 
shall  not  be  unpunished."  You  must  "  love  your  enemies." 
To  do  so  is  the  badge  of  discipleship  in  the  school  of  Christ, 
and  the  token  and  pledge  of  eternal  life.  If  you  find  no  such 
spirit  in  you,  then  you  are  a  guilty,  unpardoned,  unholy  sin- 
ner, in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  in  the  bond  of  iniquity. 
Therefore  you  must  be  converted.  You  must  be  born  again. 
In  malice  you  must  become  a  child.  Without  a  thorough 
change  of  heart  you  cannot  be  saved.  The  alternative  is 
regeneration  or  perdition.  You  must  be  born  again,  and 
your  enmity  slain,  or  you  must  sink  to  endless  woe. 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


No.  390. 

TO   THE 


NEGLECTER  OF  RELIGION. 


One  of  the  most  eminent  fetnale  Christians  of  the  last 
century,  Lady  Glenorchy  of  Scotland,  lived  to  the  age  of 
twenty-three  in  a  round  of  fashionable  pleasure.  Aroused 
by  a  threatening  illness  to  serious  reflection,  she  mused  on 
the  question,  "What  is  the  chief  end  of  man?"  "  Is  it  to 
glorify  God  and  enjoy  him  for  ever?  Have  I  answered  the 
design  of  my  being  ?  Have  I  glorified  God  ?  Shall  J  enjoy 
him  for  ever?"  Such  musings  convinced  her  of  sin,  and 
brought  her  to  flee  for  refuge  to  the  blood  of  Christ. 

Let  it  not  be  thought,  that,  to  be  a  neglecter  of  the  Gos- 
pel, a  man  must  be  an  infidel,  or  scoffer,  or  profane.  Not 
to  care  for  religion  ;  not  to  ponder  its  doctrines  and  duties  ; 
not  to  seek  its  blessings  ;  not  to  feel  our  need  of  a  Saviour  ; 
not  to  live  a  life  of  prayer  and  obedience — is  to  be  a  neg- 
lecter of  the  great  salvation.  We  urge  on  such  an  one  some 
reasons  for  immediate  attention  to  the  religion  of  Christ. 

Multitudes  of  the  wise  a7icl  good  have  estimated  it  as 
beyond  price.  Deliberate  examination  has  convinced  them, 
that  while  other  religions  are  false,  this  is  divine,  and  just 
such  a  rehgion  as  fallen  man  needs.  A  religion  which  ofTers 
mercy  to  the  penitent,  and  yet  sustains  the  honor  of  God's 
law ;  which  provides  for  all  the  wants  of  the  miserable,  and 
yet  holds  forth  powerful  motives  to  holiness. 

TJwusands  have  heeyi  made  the  better  by  the  possession 
of  this  religion.  It  has  made  them  more  sober  and  consid- 
erate ;  more  reverent  towards  God  ;  more  guarded  against 
sin ;  more  submissive  in  poverty  and  affliction  ;  stricter  in 
moral  duties  ;  kinder  as  husbands  and  wives,  parents  and 
children,  neighbors  and  friends  ;  more  humble,  forgiving, 
and  benevolent.  Do  you  not  wish  these  effects  to  be  pro- 
duced in  yourself?  Can  aught  but  the  Gospel  do  it  ?  And 
can  that  Gospel,  neglected,  transform  you  by  the  renewing 


2  TO  THE  NEGLECTER  OF  RELIGION. 

of  your  mind,  more  than  a  book  unread  can  add  to  your 
knowledge  ? 

As  religion  has  made  thousands  the  better,  irreligion  has 
'made  tJiousands  ivorse.  Look  at  those  who  are  disturbers 
of  the  peace,  corrupt  in  principle,  deceitful,  overbearing, 
and  oppressive  :  do  they  possess  the  religion  of  Christ  ?  They 
all  neglect  it ;  many  of  them  speak  lightly  of  it ;  not  a  few 
openly  revile  it.  Irreligion  debases  as  well  as  corrupts 
them. 

Without  religion  you  must  also  be  a  stranger  to  the  calmi 
and  delightful  satisfactions  of  a  good  conscience.  Possibly 
you  may  contrive,  for  a  season,  to  escape  the  stings  of  an 
accusing  conscience  ;  may  cherish  an  erroneous  conscience, 
which  speaks  peace  where  God  has  not  spoken  peace ;  or 
you  may  have  a  stupid  conscience,  destitute  of  moral  feeling  ; 
but  neither  of  these  is  a  good  conscience.  Both  are  emi- 
nently dangerous.  As  the  pious  Henry  well  remarks,  the 
greatest  curse  that  can  befall  a  man  this  side  of  a  miserable 
eternity,  is  a  dumb  conscience  that  says  nothing,  a  blind 
conscience  that  sees  nothing,  a  dead  conscience  that  feels 
nothing.  That  stupid  conscience  cannot  sleep  always,  nor 
long.  It  must  aivake  at  last,  to  bite  like  a  serpent.  But 
what  a  solace  is  a  good  conscience,  which  has  peace  with 
God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Possessed  of  this,  the 
storms  of  trouble  may  howl  without,  but  all  will  be  serene 
within.  A  statesman  of  a  former  age  summed  up  the  re- 
sults of  his  experience  in  this  :  "  Seriousness  is  the  greatest 
wisdom,  temperance  the  best  medicine,  and  a  good  con- 
science the  best  estate."  Such  a  conscience  implies  a  heart 
reconciled  to  God  through  the  blood  of  atonement,  purified  by 
his  grace  ;  and  that  its  possessor  is  living  in  dependence  on 
his  mercy,  and  endeavoring  to  bring  forth  the  fruits  of  right- 
eousness. This  will  sustain  the  soul  in  a  dying  hour.  It 
was  under  the  impression  of  such  a  preparation  being  indis- 
jJensable,  that  the  apostle  Paul  desired  to  exercise  himself  to 
"  have  always  a  conscience  void  of  ofience."  Have  not  you 
as  much  reason  to  be  afraid  of  the  judgment  as  he  ? 

Neglect  of  Christ's  Gospel  is  also  an  ill  requital  of  his 


TO  THE  NEGLECTER  OF  RELIGION.  3 

dying  love.  He  saw  you  a  perishing  sinner ;  his  bowels 
yearned  over  you  ;  he  came  from  heaven  to  earth  to  save 
you.  When  divine  justice  could  not  consistently  pardon 
A^dthout  an  atonement,  nor  spare  the  surety  without  exacting 
satisfaction,  he  shed  his  own  blood  as  the  price  of  your  re- 
demption. He  has  given  you  the  invitations  of  grace,  the 
calls  of  ministers,  the  strivings  of  his  Spirit.  Even  now  is 
he  ready  to  forgive  and  bless  you  on  your  repentance.  No 
one,  who  came  to  him  in  faith,  was  ever  cast  out,  as  too 
young,  or  too  old,  or  too  guilty,  or  too  degraded.  That  he 
has  inclined  you  to  read  these  pages,  is  a  proof  that  he  has 
not  utterly  forsaken  you.  Will  you,  after  all,  neglect  his 
religion  ?  Will  you  thus  requite  dying  love  ?  Imagine 
yourself  to  visit  some  distant  world,  and  find  in  it  only  a 
single  inhabitant ;  to  learn  that  he  was  a  sinner  ;  that  Christ 
had  in  mercy  come  to  that  world,  and  died  for  that  sinner ; 
and  that  he,  notwithstanding,  neglected  Christ's  salvation, 
grieved  his  Spirit,  and  refused  to  return  his  love.  Would 
you  not  call  him  a  monster  of  ingratitude  ?  But  has  not 
Christ  done  precisely  the  same  for  you  ? 

Consider,  farther,  that  his  religion  can  overcome  the  dread 
of  death.  This  stamps  it  with  unspeakable  value.  No  other 
principle — no  system  of  philosophy  or  infidelity  can  achieve 
for  you  this  great  victory.  Death  casts  its  gloomy  shadow 
over  the  brightest  paths  of  life,  and  dooms  to  the  grave  the 
monarch  as  certainly  as  the  beggar.  Well  is  it  called  the 
king  of  terrors.  To  social  intercourse  and  earthly  enjoyments 
it  puts  an  end.  It  is  natural  for  friends  to  wish  to  lie  side 
by  side  ;  each,  hov/ever,  dwells  alone,  and  has  no  more  com- 
munication with  neighbors,  than  if  they  were  millions  of 
miles  distant.  Death  summons  the  soul  to  the  bar  of  God 
to  receive  sentence  ;  but  over  this  dread  enemy  religion  has 
given  to  thousands  the  victory.  Leaning  on  the  arm  of 
Christ,  they  have  gone  down  into  the  dark-'valley,  fearing 
no  evil ;  faith  has  kindled  a  light  there,  and  brightened  it 
with  dawnings  of  eternal  day.  Often  have  they  been  able 
to  say  with  Watts,  "  I  can  close  my  eyes  in  sleep,  not  solicit- 
ous whether  I  awake  in  this  world,  or  in  the  world  to  come  ;" 


4  TO  THE  NEGLECTER  OF  RELIGION. 

or  with  the  pious  Hichard  Turner,  "  Now  I  have  but  a  few 
steps  to- my  Father's  house;"  or  with  Brainerd,  "I  am 
almost  in  eternity,  I  long  to  be  there  ;"  or  with  Andrew 
Fuller,  "  I  am  not  afraid  to  plunge  into  eternity  ;"  or  with 
Pay  son,  "  The  celestial  city  is  full  in  my  view.  Its  glories 
beam  upon  me  ;  its  odors  are  wafted  to  me  ;  its  sounds  strike 
upon  my  ears ;  its  spirit  is  breathed  into  my  heart.  Nothing 
separates  me  from  it  but  the  river  of  death,  Avhich  now  ap* 
pears  but  as  an  insignificant  rill,  that  may  be  crossed  at  a 
single  step  whenever  God  shall  give  permission." 

Lay  it  to  heart,  also,  that  the  religion  of  Christ  is  the 
only  iweparative  for  heaven.  Think  what  heaven  is.  No 
sin  there  ;  no  error  ;  no  trifling  or  profaneness  ;  no  selfish, 
wicked  dispositions  ;  no  opposition  to  truth,  or  reluctance  to 
duty  :  all  the  redeemed  in  that  world  supremely  love  Christ, 
and  have  no  other  wish  than  to  glorify  God.  Deeply  sensible 
they  are,  that  they  were  hell-deserving  sinners,  and  that  to 
God's  mercy  in  Christ,  not  to  their  own  merits,  they  owe  all 
their  happiness.  Are  you  not  conscious  that  you  are  now 
unqualified  for  admittance  there  ?  Can  aught  but  true  re- 
ligion prepare  you  ?  "  Ye  must  be  born  again."  This  is  the 
only  preparative,  for  "  other  foundation  can  no  man  lay, 
than  that  is  laid,  which  is  Christ."  Will  you  neglect  the 
ONLY  Saviour? 

Such  neglect  involves  eternal  ruin.  Irreligion  is  ruin, 
because  it  leaves  the  corrupt  nature  unchanged,  the  lusts  of 
the  flesh  and  mind  unsubdued,  the  careless  life  unreformed. 
It  induces  you  to  rob  God  of  the  love,  worship,  and  glory 
which  are  his  due  ;  to  live,  as  some  one  has  well  said,  "just 
as  Satan  would  have  you  ;"  for  he  wants  you  to  do  nothing 
worse  than  neglect  the  Gospel.  It  leaves  your  sins  un- 
pardoned, and  renders  the  exercise  of  mercy  towards  you, 
in  your  present  state,  inconsistent  with  the  honor  of  the 
divine  law.  If  sin  become  not  your  grief,  it  will  prove  your 
ruin.  To  turn  to  God  and  live,  or  not  to  turn  and  die,  are 
the  only  courses  set  before  you.  Better  neglect  any  thing 
than  the  soul.  A  man  famous  for  business  habits,  being 
asked  how  he  accomplished  so  much,  replied,  "  Some  things 


TO  THE  NEGLECTER  OF  RELIGION.  5 

must  be  done  ;  others  it  is  desirable  to  do.  I  do  what  must 
be  done,  and  as  much  chc  as  I  can."  So  should  you  con- 
sider the  work  of  religion,  as  that  which  must  be  done, 
whatever  else  is  left  undone.  If  this  remains  undone,  it 
will  turn  your  very  blessings  into  a  curse.  Time,  health, 
Sabbaths,  the  Bible,  and  other  means  of  grace,  are  in  them- 
selves blessings  ;  but  better  had  it  been  never  to  have  pos- 
sessed them,  than  to  abuse  them  and  be  a  castaway.  "  Good 
had  it  been  for  that  man  if  he  had  not  been  born."  Thou- 
sands have  felt,  in  the  dying  hour,  that  irreligion  had  been 
their  ruin.  Cardinal  Mazarine,  after  a  long  life  of  ambition 
and  pleasure,  in  which  he  had  enjoyed  the  highest  civil 
dignities  of  France,  exclaimed  at  the  close,  "0,  my  poor  soul, 
whither  art  thou  going?"  If  a  man  lose  health,  he  has 
hope  of  recovering  it ;  if  he  lose  property,  perhaps  he  may 
regain  it ;  if  he  lose  even  character,  possibly  he  may  re- 
trieve it ;  but  the  wul  once  lost,  is  lost  for  ever. 

0  think  not,  that  though  the  Bible  threatens  impenitence 
with  ruin,  there  shall  yet  appear  some  way  of  escape.  "  Hoiv 
shall  we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation?"  Not, 
surely,  by  resisting  God  when  he  rises  up  to  punish. 

But  possibly  you  are  framing  some  plausible  excuse. 
"  Come,"  then,  "  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord 
of  hosts."  Will  you  plead,  that  as  you  did  not  make  your 
own  heart,  you  are  not  to  blame  ?  But  do  not  your  affections 
and  acts  of  choice  constitute,  at  least  in  part,  your  heart ; 
and  dare  you  say  you  have  no  agency  in  making  them  what 
they  are  ?  \Yill  you  say  you  could  not  convert  yourself,  and 
as  God  did  not  convert  you,  you  are  excusable  ?  But  is  your 
inability  invincible  and  excusable,  or  vicious  and  criminal  ? 
Has  God,  or  has  he  not,  promised  to  give,  on  your  asking, 
the  aid  of  his  Spirit  ?  Will  you  allege,  that  if  not  elected, 
efforts  for  salvation  will  do  no  good  ?  You  would  think  it 
impertinent  to  urge  such  an  objection  against  efforts  to  cure 
a  disease,  or  raise  a  crop  on  your  field.  Will  you  plead  that 
you  cannot  think  sin  so  great  and  aggravated  an  evil  as  the 
Bible  represents  it  ?  Alas,  has  it  come  to  this,  that  you 
cannot  frame  an  excuse  without  denying  some  important 
VOL.  X.  28 


6  TO  THE  NEGLECTER  OF  RELIGION. 

principle  of  the  word  of  God  ?  Or  will  you  take  the  ground, 
that  Godis  too  merciful  to  make  any  of  his  creatures  finally 
miserable  ?  This  indeed  carries  an  appearance  of  intending 
to  honor  God  ;  but  it  is  a  strange  way  of  honoring  him,  to 
suppose  he  is  unfaithful  to  his  own  word,  and  has  threatened 
what  he  never  meant  to  perform.  Or  will  you  rely  on  the 
plea  that  it  is  unjust  for  God  to  punish  you  for  ever  for  the 
sins  of  a  short  life  ?  Who  knows  best  what  sin  deserves, 
God  or  you  ?  In  a  case  where  you  are  so  deeply  interested, 
are  you  impartial  enough  to  be  trusted  as  a  judge?  Are 
you  wise  enough  ?  To  know  fully  what  sin  deserves,  re- 
quires a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  worth  of  the  soul,  the 
excellence  of  God  and  his  law,  and  the  tendencies  and  results 
of  sin  eternal  ages  hence.  None  but  God  perfectly  knows 
one  of  these  things.  He  is  the  only  being  both  wise  enough 
and  impartial  enough  to  be  a  fit  judge.  Alas,  your  excuses 
for  neglecting  Christ  Avill  not  stand  the  test.  "  The  bed  is 
shorter  than  that  a  man  can  stretch  himself  on  it,  and  the 
covering  narrower  than  that  he  can  wrap  himself  in  it." 

Do  you  ask,  How  shall  I  obtain  the  blessings  of  religion  ? 
"  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive  ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  knock, 
and  it  shall  be  opened  to  you."  Call  on  God,  and  he  can 
and  will  help  you.  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved."  Be  not  discouraged  by  the  difficulties 
of  the  strait  and  narrow  way.  True,  a  life  of  religion  in- 
volves some  sacrifices  ;  you  must  renounce  your  sins  and 
practice  self-denial ;  it  will  cost,  however,  nothing  but  what 
you  had  infinitely  better  part  with,  than  keep.  Consider, 
too,  what  it  will  cost  not  to  be  a  Christian — an  uneasy  con- 
science, an  unhappy  death,  a  miserable  eternity.  Count  the 
cost  on  both  sides. 

On  these  great  topics  reflect.  Let  your  reflections  be 
serious,  because  of  their  importance  ;  frequent,  lest  the  whirl 
of  business  or  pleasure  eflace  them  from  your  mind  ;  and 
retired,  that  external  objects  may  not  intrude  and  distract 
your  thoughts.  It  is  a  true  remark,  that  as  a  small  voice  is 
more  distinctly  heard,  and  a  little  light  more  clearly  seen  in 
the  night,  so  when  the  soul  is  retired  from  the  throng  of  the 


TO  THE  NEGLECTER  OF  RELIGION.  7 

world,  and  outward  objects  are  darkened,  the  still  voice  of 
conscience  and  of  the  Spirit  is  better  heard,  and  the  light  of 
divine  truth  more  clearly  perceived.  Would  you  spend  but 
half  an  hour  each  day  in  solitary  reflection  and  prayer,  you 
could  not  live  as  you  do,  Tillotson  tells  us  of  a  thoughtless 
youth,  whom  his  pious  father,  on  his  death-bed,  earnestly 
requested  to  retire  each  day  and  spend  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
in  solitude.  He  promised,  and  did  so.  Soon  the  season  of 
retirement  grew  tedious ;  he  wondered  what  his  father  meant 
by  so  singular  a  request,  and  began  to  think  it  was  intended 
to  enforce  him  to  reflection.  The  expedient  was,  by  God's 
grace,  successful.  Consideration  made  him  resolve  to  change 
his  course  of  life,  and  he  was  true  to  the  resolution  all  his 
days.  "  Thus,  consideration,"  added  the  archbishop,  "  is  one 
of  the  best  means  to  bring  a  bad  man  to  a  better  mind." 

Possibly  some  one  who  has  neglected  religion,  even  to  old 
age,  may  cast  his  eye  over  these  pages.  How  affecting  the 
thought,  my  aged  friend,  that  you  have  spent  a  long  life  in 
disregard  of  Christ.  How  much  better  might  it  have  been 
spent.  Many  a  youthful  disciple,  whose  age  is  not  a  third 
part  of  yours,  has  repented  of  sin,  formed  the  habit  of  prayer, 
borne  the  yoke  of  Christ,  and  done  much  for  the  salvation 
of  others.  These  things  you  have  left  undone.  The  spring 
of  youth  is  gone  ;  the  summer  of  manhood ;  time  has  sprin- 
kled over  your  head  the  frosts  of  age,  indications  of  the  win- 
ter of  death.  But  a  span  remains.  Yield  not  to  the  despair- 
ing thought,  that  the  divine  mercy  is  clean  gone  for  ever ; 
think  not,  as  some  aged  sinners  have  done,  that  it  is  too  late 
to  attempt  any  thing.  Come  as  a  penitent,  at  the  eleventh 
hour,  and  you  shall  find  acceptance.  '*  Arise  from  the  dead, 
and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light." 

Let  the  young  attend  early  to  the  great  salvation.  To 
neglect  it  is  not  the  way  to  make  old  age  comfortable,  death 
happy,  and  eternity  blessed.  Serve  God  in  the  morning  of 
life,  and  he  will  not  cast  you  off' when  your  strength  faileth. 
Youth  commonly  gives  a  stamp  to  the  rest  of  life  :  what 
one  becomes  at  the  age  of  tAventy  or  twenty-five,  he  is  very 
likely  to  remain  while  he  lives.     It  is  dangerous  to  neglect 


8  TO  THE  NEGLECTER  OF  RELIGION. 

the  Saviour  a  single  day  ;  for  what  is  your  life  ?  Alas,  let 
the  graves  of  others  tell.  Persons  of  your  age  are  apt  to  be 
delighted  w^ith  "  the  things  that  are  seen,"  the  novelties,  the 
pleasures,  and  attractions  of  the  world.  But,  remember, 
there  are  things  "  not  seen  :"  an  unseen  Grod,  an  unseen 
eternity,  an  unseen  judgment.  Soon  will  the  world  have 
gone  by — its  glitter,  its  amusements,  its  business  ;  but  mill- 
ions of  ages  hence,  there  will  be  the  same  God,  the  same 
Christ,  the  same  heaven  and  hell.  Neglect  not  religion 
because  many  of  your  young  associates  do.  Better  to  follow 
Christ  without  them,  than  go  down  to  destruction  with 
them.  Even  should  youthful  piety  incur  the  sneers  of  the 
thoughtless,  will  it  not  be  easier  to  bear  these,  than  the  eter- 
nal frowns  of  God  ?  Thrice  happy  the  young  Christian, 
who  pursues  the  course  which  will  enable  him,  in  declining' 
years,  to  say  with  good  Obadiah,  "  I  thy  servant  fear  the 
Lord  from  my  youth." 

No  longer,  fellow-immortal,  neglect  the  things  of  thy 
peace,  "  lest  they  be  hid  from  thine  eyes."  Acquaint  thyself 
NOW  with  God  ;  an  hour  too  late  may  be  an  eternity  too  late. 
Your  character  at  death,  good  or  bad,  you  will  carry  into 
eternity.  Death  changes  not  the  moral  feelings  of  the  heart. 
Are  you  willing  to  die  in  such  a  state,  that,  should  your 
tombstone  tell  the  truth,  it  must  say,  Here  lies  a  neglecter 
OF  THE  Gospel  ?  Soon  will  you  be  gone — ^your  house  and 
place  be  occupied  by  others — ^your  very  name  forgotten — your 
grave  levelled  by  the  hand  of  time,  and  not  the  slightest 
memorial  of  you  remain  on  earth.  But  your  spirit,  where 
will  that  be  ;  where,  thousands  of  ages  hence  ?  TJiat  will 
be  determined  by  your  embracing,  or  neglecting  the  religion 
of  Jesus  Christ. 


PUBLISHED   BY    THE    AMERICAN   TRACT    SOCIETV. 


IVo.  391 


"I  AM  NO  HYPOCRITE." 


This  is  the  inconsiderate  declaration  of  many  an  indi- 
vidual, implying  at  once  self- commendation  and  a  reflection 
upon  professors  of  religion.  But  they  who  join  some  church, 
are  not  the  only  persons  who  make  professions.  Those 
who  join  no  church,  profess,  if  not  in  words,  yet  in  actions, 
that  they  are  not  Christians.  And  when  they  charge  pro- 
fessors of  religion  with  hypocrisy,  and  maintain  that  they 
themselves  are  sincere,  they  plainly  acknowledge  that  they 
could  not  make  a  profession  of  religion  without  hypocrisy — 
that  is,  they  profess  not  to  be  Christians. 

When  the  Lord's  table  is  spread,  and  church-members 
come  around  it,  they  make  a  profession  of  repentance,  faith 
in  Christ,  love  to  God,  and  obedience  to  the  divine  pre- 
cepts. Those  who  come  not  around  this  table,  profess,  as 
plainly  as  actions  can  speak,  that  they  do  not  repent,  be- 
lieve, love,  nor  obey.  And  often,  when  they  are  asked, 
"Are  you  followers  of  Christ?"  they  plainly  answer,  ''No 
— hut  we  are  no  hypocrites^  Such  persons  differ  from  true 
Christians  both  in  profession  and  in  reality ;  but  they  diflfer 
from  hypocrites  only  in  profession.  With  this  single  ex- 
ception they  are  alike.  Both  are  destitute  of  true  religion. 
If  false  professors  are  to  be  detested  for  their  hypocrisy, 
ought  those  who  profess  to  have  no  religion  to  congratu- 
late themselves  for  their  sincerity  ? 

It  is  possible  for  a  man  to  be  sincere  in  embracing  error 
and  practising  iniquity,  as  well  as  in  embracing  the  truth 
and  obeying  it ;  and  then,  the  greater  the  sincerity,  the 
worse  the  condition.  If  what  is  sincere  were  always  right, 
then  sincere  hatred  to  our  neighbor  would  be  right ;  and 
the  murderer  would  do  right  in  killing  his  neighbor,  pro- 
vided he  only  hated  him  sincerely,  and  was  in  good  earnest 
in  killing  him.  But  let  us  pass  to  the  consideration  of  some 
of  those  cases  in  which  men  profess  to  be  sincere. 

Perhaps  you  profess  to  be  an  atheist — an  unbeliever  in 
the  existence  of  a  Supreme  Beincr,  who  created  and  governs 
VOL.  X.  28* 


2  "  I  AM  NO  HYPOCRITE." 

the  iiniverse.  Now,  some  have  doubted  whether  a  sincere 
atheist  ever  Hved ;  but  3'our  sincei'ity  I  will  not  for  the 
present  call  in  question.  Let  me  ask,  however,  whether 
you  have  ever  seriously  thought  of  the  absurdities  embraced 
in  your  belief?  Do  you  then  believe  that  a  watch  makes, 
winds  up,  and  regulates  itself ;  or  rather,  that  it  exists  and 
measures  time,  without  ever  having  been  made  and  regu- 
lated ?  This  would  be  quite  rational,  compared  with  the 
belief  of  him  who  maintains  that  the  universe,  with  all  its 
grand,  and  varied,  and  complicated  machinery,  exists  with- 
out a  Maker,  Men  often  become  atheists  because  they  "  do 
not  like  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge,"  Romans  1  :  28. 
Whether  this  is  the  case  with  yourself  or  not,  I  suppose 
you  think  it  best  that  the  universe  should  be  rushing  on  to 
its  catastrophe,  whatever  that  may  be,  without  the  super- 
intendence and  control  of  an  almighty,  all-wise,  and  good 
God.  And  Avould  it  be  best  that  railroad  trains  and  boats, 
laden  with  the  rich  treasures  of  human  life  and  human  in- 
dustry, should  be  driven  about,  in  every  direction,  by  the 
mighty  power  of  steam,  without  careful  engineers  to  regu- 
late and  guide  them  ?   Are  you  indeed  sincere  ? 

Perhaps,  however,  you  admit  that  a  God  exists,  but 
deny  that  the  Bible  contains  a  revelation  from  him.  The 
brief  limits  of  these  pages  will  not  admit  of  my  considering, 
or  rather  suggesting  for  your  consideration,  all  the  aston- 
ishing results  of  your  sincerity  ;  for  I  now  suppose  you  to 
be  sincere.  Have  you  read  Leslie,  Jenyns,  Paley,  or  Faber 
on  the  Difficulties  of  Infidelity?  Have  you  even  read  the 
Bible  itself  with  care  and  candor?  Be  not  offended  at  this 
question.  It  is  well  known  that  many  are  sincerely  ■preju- 
diced against  the  Bible,  without  knowing  much  about  its 
contents.  Why  do  you  reject  the  Bible  ?  Because  it  is  a 
bad  book  ?  Is  that  a  bad  book  which  commands  us  to  love 
God  supremely,  and  our  neighbor  as  ourselves  ?  Mark 
12  :  29-31, 

If  Christianity  is  not  true,  the  apostles  were  either  im- 
postors or  self-deceived.  Would  impostors  incur  poverty, 
and  persecution,  and  death  in  its  most  horrible  forms,  by  main- 
taining that  which  they  knew  to  be  false  ?  If  the  apostles 
were  self-deceived,  can  we  any  longer  believe  our  own  senses  ? 
What  confidence  can  be  placed  in  eyes  and  ears,  if  the  apos- 
tles saw  not  Jesus  perform  miracles,  and  heard  not  the  gra- 


"  I  AM  NO  HYPOCRITE."  3 

cious  words  which  he  spoke  ?    How  could  they  be  deceived 
in  the  resurrection  of  Lazarus,  for  instance  ?    John  11. 

But  you  are  a  sinner,  as  are  all  other  men.  Of  course, 
you  need  pardon.  How  do  you  expect  to  obtain  it  ?  By 
repentance,  do  you  say  ?  Does  the  light  of  nature  teach 
that,  or  the  very  Bible  which  you  reject  ?  The  light  of 
nature  proclaims  law  and  penalty,  but  announces  no  pardon. 
Why  persist,  then,  in  closing  the  door  of  hope  which  the 
Bible  opens  for  every  trembling  penitent — -for  yourself, 
through  faith  in  a  crucified  Redeemer  ?  Why  prefer  the 
rushlight  of  natural  religion  to  the  sun  of  the  Gospel  ?  Are 
you  indeed  sincere  in  choosing  darkness  rather  than  light  ? 

I  might  make  some  remarks,  in  passing,  upon  the  sin- 
cerity of  those  who  profess  to  receive  the  Scriptures,  and 
yet  adopt  opinions  at  variance  with  some  of  their  plainest 
declarations.  I  allude  particularly  to  Universalis ts  and 
Unitarians.  I  might  remind  them  that  many,  who  profess 
to  hold  their  opinions,  renounce  them  when  convinced  of 
sin,  or  upon  a  dying  bed ;  but  this  might  seem  like  a  re- 
flection upon  their  sincerity.  I  will  therefore  here  add  only 
a  single  remark.  It  seems  they  sincerely  believe  that  Christ 
and  his  a2)ostles  S2Joke  very  unguardedly ;  otherwise  they 
would  not  labor  so  hard  to  show  that  they  do  not  mean 
what  they  seem  to  mean,  and  what  the  great  mass  of  the 
Christian  world  have  always  understood  them  to  mean. 

I  now  turn,  with  intense  interest,  to  a  very  numerous 
class  found  in  all  Christian  lands.  I  mean  those  who  re- 
ceive the  Scriptures  as  a  revelation  from  God,  and  profess 
to  believe  the  doctrines  which  they  teach,  and  yet  live  in 
sin,  impenitence,  and  unbelief.  They  profess  to  have  no 
piety — and  they  are  sincere — and  even  boast  of  their  sin- 
cerity ;  Avhile  they  throw  out  the  most  unsparing  insinua- 
tions of  hypocrisy  against  professors  of  religion.  Let  us 
look  now  at  this  sincere  irreligion,  and  see  how  it  appears. 
God  commands  you  to  repent ;  but  you  do  not  repent.  You 
love  sin  too  well  to  part  with  it — and  you  are  sincere  !  God 
commands  you  to  believe  on  his  Son  Jesus  Christ ;  but,  as 
you  love  sin,  you  are  unwilling  to  be  saved  from  it,  and 
therefore  you  reject  "  the  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world" — and  you  are  since^-e!  God  commands 
you  to  love  and  obey  him ;  but  you  do  neither.  He  com- 
mands you  to  strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate ;  but  you 


4  "I  AM  NO  HYPOCRITE." 

strive  not.  In  short,  God  requires  you  to  be  every  thing 
that  a  Christian  ought  to  be;  but,  you  are  no  Christian; 
oh  no,  you  are  far  from  it ;  and,  you  are  no  hypocrite  !  O 
what  horrible  sincerity  !  Are  you  not  ashamed  of  it  ?  Does 
not  conscience  thunder  an  alarm  in  your  ears  while  you 
think  of  it  ?  Can  hypocrisy  itself  be  much  more  displeasing 
to  God  than  such  sincerity  ? 

On  earth,  Satan  is  often  a  hypocrite,  and  appears  as  an 
angel  of  light ;  but  in  hell  he  appears  as  he  is,  a  devil  out- 
right, all  malignity ;  and  his  hatred  to  God  and  all  good 
is  sincere.  Is  he  any  better  for  his  sincerity  ?  And  are  you 
any  the  better  for  yours  ?  Does  God  love  you,  because  you 
are  sincere  in  not  loving  him  ?  How  strange  that  sinners 
should  boast  of  their  sincerity. 

But  I  must  remind  you,  that  if  you  are  sincere,  much 
more  is  God  sincere.  Men  may  lie :  God  cannot.  You 
would  be  offended,  if  any  body  should  doubt  your  sincerity. 
Offend  not  your  Maker,  therefore,  by  doubting  his.  You 
are  sincere  in  being  unholy,  impeiiitent,  unbelieving.  God 
is  sincere  in  saying,  "  Without  holiness,  no  man  shall  see 
the  Lord.^^  "  Except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish.^' 
"He  that  believeth  not,  shall  be  damned.^''  You  are  sincere, 
and  God  is  sincere.  What  then  must  be  the  result?  It 
will  be  seen  in  that  "  day  when  the  Lord  Jesus  shall  be 
revealed  from  heaven  with  his  mighty  angels,  in  flaming 
fire  taking  vengeance  on  them  that  know  not  God,  and 
that  obey  not  the  Gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  The 
Judge  will  then  be  sincere  in  pronouncing  the  final  sentence, 
''  Depart,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the 
devil  and  his  angels."  Will  your  sincerity  in  sin  save  you 
then  ?  Ah  no.  You  must  go  away  into  everlasting  punish- 
ment. 

"Down  to  hell,  there's  no  redemption, 
Every  Christless  soul  must  go." 

Oh,  as  you  have  been  sincere  in  your  impenitence,  be 
sincere  also  in  your  humiliation.  Repent  of  your  wicked- 
ness, and  pray  God,  if  perhaps  the  thought  of  your  heart 
may  be  forgiven  you.  Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  you  shall  be  saved.  But  boast  no  more,  ivhile  you  live 
in  sin,  that  you  are  no  hypocrite. 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


No.  S92. 

COME  AND  WELCOME 
TO  JESUS  CHRIST. 

BY  JOHN   BUNYAN. 


•'  ALL  THAT  THE  FATHER  GIVETH  ME,  SHALL  COME  TO  ME ;  AND 
HIM  THAT  COMETH  TO  ME,  I  WILL  IN  NO  WISE  CAST  OUT." 
John  6  :  37. 

The  love  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  poor  sinners,  pre- 
vailed with  him  to  lay  aside  his  glory,  to  leave  the  heavenly 
place,  to  clothe  himself  with  flesh,  to  be  born  in  a  stable,  to 
be  laid  in  a  manger,  to  live  a  poor  life  in  the  world,  to  take 
upon  him  our  sorrows,  our  infirmities,  our  pains,  our  sins, 
our  curse,  and  the  wrath  that  was  due  to  man ;  and  all  this 
he  did  for  a  base,  undeserving,  unthankful  people,  yea,  that 
were  at  enmity  with  him. 

The  coming  to  him,  intended  in  this  passage,  is  to  be 
understood  of  the  coming  of  the  mind  to  him,  even  the 
moving  of  the  heart  towards  him,  from  a  deep  sense  of  the 
absolute  need  of  him  for  justification  and  salvation.  What 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?    Lord,  save  me,  or  I  perish. 

Do  you  ask,  In  what  way  do  they  come  ?  They  come 
with  weeping  and  with  supplication  ;  they  come  with  pray- 
ers and  tears.  Jer.  50  :  4.  A  senseless  sinner  cannot 
come :  he  cannot  pray ;  he  cannot  cry ;  he  cannot  come 
sensible  of  what  he  sees  not,  nor  feels. 

This  coming  to  Christ,  is  called  a  running  to  him — a 
Jleeing  to  him  from  the  wrath  to  come.  Fleeing  is  the  last 
work  of  a  man  in  danorer.  All  that  are  in  dano^er  do  not 
flee ;  no,  not  all  that  see  themselves  in  danger.  Men  will 
consider  if  there  be  no  other  way  of  escape  before  they  flee. 
When  all  refuge  fails,  and  a  man  is  made  to  see  that  there 
is  nothing  left  him  but  sin,  death,  and  damnation,  unless 
he  flees  to  Christ  for  life,  then  he  flees ;  and  not  till  then. 
He  that  comes  to  Christ,  honestly  and  sincerely,  forsakes 
all  for  him.     Luke  14  :  26.     He  casts  all  behind  his  back; 


2  COME  AND  WELCOME 

he  leaves,  he  forsakes  all  things  that  would  stand  in  his 
way  to  hinder  his  coming  to  Christ. 

Coming  sinner,  hear  further  what  there  is  in  this  Sav- 
iour who  inviteth  thee.  In  Christ,  there  is  a  fulness  of 
all  that  can  make  us  happy.  "  For  it  pleased  the  Father 
that  in  him  should  all  fulness  dwell."  Col.  1:19.  The 
riches  of  Christ  are  unsearchable. 

There  is  light  in  Christ,  sufficient  to  lead  out  of  all  that 
darkness,  in  the  midst  of  which  men  stumble,  and  fall,  and 
perish.  Man  by  nature  is  in  darkness,  and  walketh  in 
darkness,  and  knoweth  not  whither  he  goes,  for  darkness 
hath  blinded  his  mind ;  neither  can  any  thing  but  Jesus 
Christ  lead  men  out  of  this  darkness. 

There  is  life  in  Christ,  that  is  to  be  found  nowhere  else : 
life,  as  a  principle  in  the  soul,  by  which  it  shall  be  actuated, 
and  enabled  to  do  that  which,  through  him,  is  pleasing  to 
God.  Without  this  life,  a  man  is  dead.  However  good  in 
his  own,  or  other  men's  esteem,  there  is  no  true  and  eternal 
life  but  in  Christ. 

Christ  is  he  alone  by  whom  poor  sinners  have  admit- 
tance to,  and  acceptance  with  the  Father,  because  of  the 
glory  of  his  righteousness,  by  and  in  which  he  presenteth 
them  amiable  and  spotless  in  his  sight.  *'  I  am  the  way, 
and  the  truth,  and  the  life  :  no  man  cometh  unto  the  Father, 
but  by  me." 

Christ  alone  can  give  true  peace :  "  My  peace  I  give 
unto  you,"  peace  with  conscience,  peace  Avith  God ;  "  not 
as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you:"  the  world's  peace 
is  but  carnal  and  transitory ;  mine  is  divine  and  eternal. 

This  Saviour  hath  enough  of  all  things  spiritually  good, 
to  satisfy  the  desire  of  every  longing  soul.  "  Jesus  stood 
and  cried.  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me,  and 
drink,"  John  7:  87;  and  "I  will  give  imto  him  that  is 
athirst  of  the  fountain  of  the  water  of  life  freely." 

Are  not  these  words,  therefore,  a  sufficient  ground  to 
encourage  any  coming  sinner?  "Him  that  cometh,"  him 
whose  heart  begins  to  move  after  me,  who  is  leaving  all  for 
my  sake,  him  who  is  on  his  journey  towards  me.  There  is 
further  to  be  gathered  from  this  word  *'  cometh," 

That  Jesus  Christ  takes  notice  of  the  first  moving  of  the 
heart  of  a  sinner  towards  him.  Coming  sinner,  thou  canst 
not  move  with  desires  after  Christ,  but  he  sees  the  working 


TO  JESUS  CHRIST.  3 

of  those  desires  in  thy  heart.  It  is  said  of  the  prodigal, 
that,  ''when  he  was  yet  a  great  way  off,  his  father  saw 
him,  and  had  compassion,  and  ran,  and  fell  on  his  neck,  and 
kissed  him."  Luke  15  :  20.  The  prodigal  had,  probably, 
many  a  fear  and  doubt  between  the  first  step  and  the  last 
of  his  journey.  I  said,  I  would  go  to  my  father ;  but  what 
if,  when  I  am  c'ome  to  him,  he  should  ask  me  where  I  have 
been  all  this  while,  what  shall  I  say  then  ?  If  he  ask  me 
Avhat  is  become  of  the  portion  of  goods  that  he  gave  me, 
what  shall  I  say  then  ?  If  he  ask  me  who  have  been  my 
companions,  what  shall  I  say  then  ?  If  he  ask  me  on  what 
my  heart  has  been  set  all  the  time  of  my  absence  from  him, 
what  shall  I  say  then  ?  Yea,  and  if  he  ask  me,  why  I  came 
home  no  sooner,  what  shall  I  say  then  ?  Conscious  that  he 
could  give  but  a  bad  answer  to  any  of  these  questions,  no 
wonder  if  he  stood  in  need,  first  of  all,  of  a  kiss  from  his 
father's  lips. 

As  Jesus  Christ  hath  his  eye  upon,  so  he  hath  his  heart 
open  to  receive  the  returning  sinner.  No  sins  of  the  com- 
ing sinner,  however  long  he  hath  lived  in  them,  shall  by 
any  means  prevail  with  Jesus  Christ  to  reject  him.  Com- 
ing sinner,  thou  art  coming  to  a  gracious  Saviour.  These 
words  dropped  from  his  blessed  lips  on  purpose  that  the 
coming  sinner  might  take  encouragement  to  continue  on  his 
journey  until  he  have  indeed  come  to  Jesus  Christ.  They 
that  are  coming  unto  Jesus,  are  often  afraid  that  Jesus 
Christ  will  not  receive  them.  But  he  says,  "  I  will  in  no 
ivise  cast  out." 

Coming  sinner,  are  not  these  words  sufficient  to  dash 
in  pieces  all  thine  objections ;  and  are  they  not  dropped  by 
the  Lord  Jesus  for  that  very  end,  and  to  help  the  faith  that 
is  mixed  with  unbelief?  It  is,  as  it  were,  the  sum  of  all 
the  promises ;  nor  is  any  unworthiness  that  thou  findest  in 
thyself  so  great,  that  this  promise  will  not  overcome. 

*'  But  I  am  a  great  sinner,"  sayest  thou :  "  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out,"  says  Christ.  *'But  I  am  an  old  sinner," 
sayest  thou :  "  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out,"  says  Christ. 
**  But  I  am  a  hard-hearted  sinner,"  sayest  thou  :  "  I  will  in 
no  wise  cast  out,"  says  Christ.  ''But  I  have  served  Satan 
all  my  days,"  sayest  thou :  "  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out," 
says  Christ.  "  But  I  have  sinned  against  light,"  sayest 
thou:    "I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out,"  says  Christ.     "But  I 


4  COME  AND  WELCOME 

have  sinned  against  mercy,"  sayest  thou :  ''  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out,"  says  Christ.  "  But  I  have  no  good  thing 
to  bring  with  me,"  sayest  thou :  "I  will  in  no  wise  cast 
out,"  says  Christ.  Thus  I  might  go  on,  and  show  you  that 
this  promise  was  provided  to  answer  all  thy  objections,  and 
to  ease  all  thy  fears. 

Many,  like  thee,  have  feared  that  the  Saviour  would 
not  receive  them.  Dost  thou  desire  to  know  the  reason 
OF  ALL  THESE  FEARS  ?    I  will  tell  thee. 

It  is  not  for  want  of  ground  to  stand  upon ;  this  text 
itself  lays  a  sufficient  foundation  to  encourage  all  that  are 
comino^  to  Jesus  Christ :  "  Him  that  cometh  unto  me,  I  will 
in  no  wise  cast  out."  It  is  not  for  want  of  invitation  to 
come,  for  that  is  full  and  plain  :  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that 
labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  Matt, 
11  :  28.  Neither  is  it  for  want  of  Christ's  willingness  to 
receive  thee  :  "If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me,  and 
drink."  John  7  :  37.  It  is  not  for  want  of  solemn  oath 
and  engagement  to  save  them  that  come  ;  for,  "  because  he 
could  swear  by  no  greater,  he  sware  by  himself ;  that  by 
two  immutable  things,  in  which  it  was  impossible  for  God 
to  lie,  we  mio['ht  have  a  stronsf  consolation,  who  have  fled 
for  refuge  to  lay  hold  upon  the  hope  set  before  us."  Heb. 
6  :  13,  17,  18. 

Coming  sinner,  not  one  of  these  can  be  the  cause :  I 
will  now  tell  thee  what  may  be  the  real  cause. 

It  is  the  want  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ.  Thou  know- 
est  but  little  of  the  grace  and  kindness  that  are  in  the  heart 
of  Christ ;  thou  knowest  but  little  of  the  virtue  and  merit 
of  his  blood  ;  thou  knowest  but  little  of  the  willingness  that 
is  in  his  heart  to  save  thee ;  and  this  is  the  reason  of  the 
fear  that  arises  in  thy  heart,  and  that  causes  thee  to  doubt. 
Unbelief  is  the  daughter  of  ignorance ;  therefore  Christ 
saith,  "  0  fools,  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe."  Luke  24  :  25. 

Slowness  of  heart  to  believe,  flows  from  thy  too  little 
knowledge  of  Christ.  The  more  knowledge  of  Christ,  the 
more  faith  :  "  They  that  know  thy  name  will  put  their  trust 
in  thee."  Ps.  9  :  10.  He  that  began  to  come  to  Christ  but 
the  other  day,  and  hath  yet  but  little  knowledge  of  him, 
feareth  that  Christ  will  not  receive  him;  but  he  that  hath 
been  longer  acquainted  with  him,  is  strong,  and  hath  over- 
come the  wicked  one. 


TO  JESUS  CHRIST.  5 

Let  the  coming  sinner,  therefore,  seek  after  more  of  the 
good  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ ;  press  after  it ;  "  seek  it 
as  silver,  and  dig  for  it  as  for  hid  treasure."  This  will  em- 
bolden thee — this  will  make  thee  grow  strong.  "  I  know 
in  whom  I  have  believed."  "1  know  him,"  said  Paul; 
and  what  follows  ?  "I  am  persuaded  he  is  able  to  keep 
that  which  I  have  committed  unto  him  against  that  day." 
2  Tim.  1  :  12. 

What  had  Paul  committed  to  Jesus  Christ?  The  an- 
swer is,  he  had  committed  to  him  his  soul.  Why  did  he 
commit  his  soul  to  him  ?  Because  he  knew  him ;  he  knew 
him  to  be  faithful,  to  be  kind ;  he  knew  he  would  not  fail 
him,  nor  forsake  him ;  and  therefore  he  laid  his  soul  down 
at  his  feet,  and  committed  it  to  him,  to  keep  against  that 
day. 

Thy  fears  that  Christ  will  not  receive  thee,  may  be  also 
a  consequence  of  thy  earnest  and  strong  desires  after  thy  sal- 
vation by  him.  What  a  man  most  sets  his  heart  upon,  he 
often  most  fears  he  shall  not  obtain.  Hear  these  words : 
**  Say  to  them  that  are  of  a  fearful  heart,  Be  strong,  fear 
not."     Isa.  35  :  4. 

The  fear  that  Christ  will  not  receive  thee,  may  arise 
from  a  sense  of  the  exceeding  mercy  of  being  saved.  Some- 
times salvation  appears,  to  the  eyes  of  him  that  desires  it, 
so  great,  so  wonderful  a  thing,  that  the  very  thought  of  its 
excellency  awakens  unbelief  that  it  can  be  obtained,  in  the 
hearts  of  those  who  unfeignedly  desire  it.  "  Seemeth  it  to 
you,"  saith  David,  "  a  light  thing  to  be  a  king's  son-in-law  ?" 
So  the  thoughts  of  the  greatness  and  glory  of  the  thing 
proposed,  as  heaven,  eternal  life,  eternal  glory,  to  be  with 
God,  and  Christ,  and  angels  ;  these  are  great  things,  things 
too  good,  saith  the  soul  that  is  little  in  his  own  eyes — too 
rich,  saith  the  soul  that  is  truly  poor  in  spirit,  for  me.  Oh, 
it  is  too  big,  it  is  too  big ;  it  is  too  great  a  mercy  1 

But,  coming  sinner,  let  me  reason  with  thee ;  thou 
sayest.  It  is  too  big,  too  great ;  well,  wall  things  that  are 
less  satisfy  thy  soul  ?  Will  a  less  thing  than  heaven,  than 
glory,  and  eternal  life,  answer  thy  desires  ?  No,  nothing 
less.  Well,  great  and  good  as  they  are,  God  giveth  them 
to  such  as  thyself ;  they  are  not  too  great  for  God  to  give ; 
no,  not  to  give  freely  :  be  content,  let  God  give  like  himself. 
Coming   sinner,   God  can  give  his  heavenly  Canaan,  and 

vox,.  X.  29 


Q  -  COME  AND  WELCOME 

the  glory  of  it,  unto  thee ;  yea,  none  ever  had  it  but  as  a 
free  gift-.  He  hath  given  us  his  Son ;  how  shall  he  not  with 
him  also  freely  give  us  all  things. 

Thy  fear  that  Christ  will  not  receive  thee,  may  arise 
from  those  decays  that  thou  findest  in  thy  soul,  even  when 
thou  art  coming  to  him.  There  is  such  a  one  coming  to 
Jesus  Christ,  who,  when  at  first  he  began  to  look  out  after 
him,  was  tender,  affectionate,  and  broken  in  spirit ;  but  now 
is  grown  dark,  senseless,  hard-hearted,  and  inclining  to 
neglect  spiritual  duties.  Now  he  finds  he  cannot  tremble 
at  God's  word,  nor  his  judgments,  neither  can  he,  as  he 
thinks,  be  sorry  for  these  things.  Now  this  is  a  sad  situa- 
tion. But  Jesus  Christ  is  the  conqueror  of  the  tempter, 
and  a  succorer  of  those  that  are  tempted.     Heb.  2:18. 

Thy  fears  may  arise  from  another  cause :  it  may  be, 
thou  wast  ffiven  to  slumber  and  sleep,  and  therefore  these 
temptations  were  sent  to  awaken  thee.  Take  heed,  lest 
Satan  should  gain  advantage  over  thee. 

Again,  it  may  be  thy  graces  must  be  tried  in  the  fire, 
that  the  rust  that  cleaveth  to  them  may  be  taken  awa}^,  that 
they  may  be  proved  to  be  far  better  than  gold  that  perish- 
eth.  Suppose  the  worst ;  suppose  that  thou  art  to  this 
day  without  the  grace  of  God,  yet  thou  art  to  this  day  but 
a  miserable  sinner,  that  hath  need  of  a  blessed  Saviour : 
this  text  presents  thee  Avith  one  as  good  and  kind  as  heart 
can  wish,  and  for  thy  encouragement  saith,  "  Him  that 
cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out !" 

Learn  then,  coming  sinner,  that  faith  and  doubting  may 
at  the  same  time  have  their  residence  in  the  same  soul.  "  O 
thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt?"  Matt. 
14 :  31.  Peter  had  a  little  faith  in  the  midst  of  his  many 
doubts.  The  same  is  true  of  many  that  are  coming  to  Jesus 
Christ — they  come,  and  fear  they  come  not :  when  they  look 
upon  the  promise,  or  a  word  of  encouragement  by  faith, 
then  they  come  ;  but  when  they  look  upon  themselves,  or 
the  difficulties  that  lie  before  them,  then  they  doubt.  "  Bid 
me  come,"  said  Peter.  "  Come,"  said  Christ ;  so  he  went 
down  out  of  the  ship  to  go  to  Jesus,  but  his  lot  was  to  go 
to  him  upon  the  water — there  was  the  trial ;  so  it  is  with 
the  poor  desiring  soul.  *'Bid  me  come,"  says  the  sinner. 
"  Come,"  says  Christ,  "  and  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  So 
he  comes  upon  the  water,  upon  drowning  difficulties;  if. 


TO  JESUS  CHRIST.  7 

therefore,  the  wind  of  temptation  blow,  the  waves  of  doubts 
and  fears  will  presently  arise,  and  this  coming  sinner  will 
begin  to  sink,  if  he  has  but  little  faith.  Peter  went  so  far 
as  his  little  faith  would  carry  him ;  he  also  cried,  as  far  as 
his  little  faith  would  help,  *' Lord,  save  me;  I  perish:"  and 
so  with  coming  and  crying,  he  was  kept  from  sinking,  though 
he  had  but  a  little  faith.  Jesus  stretched  forth  his  hand, 
and  caught  him,  and  said  unto  him,  "  0  thou  of  little  faith, 
wherefore  didst  thou  doubt?" 

Coming  sinner,  happy  for  thee  that  thy  **  life  is  hid 
with  Christ  in  God."  Alas,  the  best  of  us,  were  life  left 
in  our  hands,  should  forfeit  it  over  and  over ;  or,  were  it 
in  the  hands  of  another,  we  should  by  our  often  backslid- 
ings,  so  offend  him,  that  at  last  he  would  shut  up  his  mercy 
in  everlasting  displeasure  against  us.  But  now  it  is  with 
One  that  can  pity,  pray  for,  pardon,  yea,  multiply  pardons ; 
it  is  with  One  that  can  have  compassion  upon  us  when  we 
are  out  of  the  way  ;  with  One  that  hath  a  heart  to  fetch  us 
again,  when  we  are  gone  astray ;  with  One  that  can  pardon 
without  upbraiding :  blessed  be  God  that  our  life  is  hid  in 
Christ. 

This  doctrine  of  coming  to  Jesus  Christ  for  life,  informs 
us  of  the  evil  of  unbelief,  that  chief  hinderance  of  the  com- 
ing sinner :  by  faith  we  come — by  unbelief  we  keep  away ; 
therefore  it  is  said  to  be  by  unbelief  that  a  soul  departs 
from  God,  because  it  was  that  which  first  caused  the  world 
to  go  off  from  him,  and  the  same  keeps  them  from  him 
unto  this  day.  It  is  unbelief  above  all  other  sins  which 
weakens  our  prayers,  our  faith,  our  love,  our  diligence,  and 
our  hope. 

Take  the  following  as  a  more  particular  view  of  faith 
to  assist  the  weak  believer :  Faith  sees  more  in  a  promise  of 
God  to  help,  than  in  all  other  things  to  hinder ;  but  un- 
belief, notwithstanding  God's  promise,  saith.  How  can  these 
things  be  ?  Faith  brings  us  near  to  God,  when  we  are  far 
from  him  ;  but  unbelief  puts  us  far  from  God,  when  we  are 
near  him.  Faith  makes  us  see  the  value  of  Christ ;  but 
unbelief  sees  no  form,  beauty,  or  comeliness  in  him.  Faith 
will  make  thee  see  love  in  the  heart  of  Christ,  when  with  the 
mouth  he  giveth  reproofs  ;  but  unbelief  will  imagine  wrath 
in  his  heart,  when  with  his  mouth  and  word  he  saith  he 
loves  us.     Faith  will  help  the  soul  to  ivait,  though   God 


8  COME  AND  WELCOME  TO  JESUS  CHRIST. 

defers  to  give ;  but  unbelief  Avill  take  offence  and  cast  up 
all,  if  God  makes  any  tarrying.  Faith  will  give  comfort  m 
the  midst  of  fears ;  but  unbelief  causeth  fear  in  the  midst 
of  comforts.  Faith  makes  great  burdens  light ;  but  unbe- 
lief makes  light  ones  intolerably  heavy.  Faith  gives  us  the 
victory  over  the  law,  sin,  and  death ;  but  unbelief  lays  us 
open  to  them  all.  Faith  will  show  us  more  excellency  in 
things  not  seen,  than  in  the  things  that  are  seen ;  but  unbe- 
lief sees  more  in  things  that  are,  than  in  things  that  will  be 
hereafter.  Faith  makes  the  ways  of  God  pleasant ;  but 
unbelief  makes  them  hard  and  heavy.  "  This  is  the  victory 
that  overcometh  the  world,  even  our  faith." 

Once  more,  coming  sinner,  think  of  the  Saviour  who 
inviteth  thee ;  full  of  grace  as  well  as  of  truth.  He  com- 
plaineth  if  thou  come  not ;  he  is  displeased  if  thou  call  not 
upon  him ;  he  can  bear  Avith  thy  weakness ;  he  can  pity 
thy  ignorance ;  he  can  be  touched  with  the  feeling  of  thy 
infirmities  ;  he  can  affectionately  forgive  thy  transgressions ; 
he  can  heal  thy  backslidings,  and  love  thee  freely.  His 
compassions  fail  not ;  he  will  not  break  the  bruised  reed, 
nor  quench  the  smoking  flax ;  he  can  pity  where  no  eye 
pities,  and  be  afflicted  in  all  thy  afflictions ;  he  will  bow  his 
ear  to  thy  stammering  prayer ;  he  will  accept  the  weakest 
offering,  if  there  be  in  it  but  thy  heart ;  he  hath  strewed 
all  the  way  from  the  gate  of  hell  where  thou  wast,  to  the 
gate  of  heaven  whither  thou  art  going,  with  promises. 

Behold  how  the  promises,  invitations,  calls,  and  en- 
couragements are  mixed  with  the  names  of  mercy,  good- 
ness, love,  pity,  and  pardon.  In  his  book  they  are  fairly 
written,  that  thou,  through  patience  and  comfort  of  the 
Scriptures,  mightest  have  hope.  Coming  sinner,  blessed 
art  thou,  for  **  flesh  and  blood  have  not  revealed  this  unto 
thee,  but  thy  Father  who  is  in  heaven." 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


IVo.  393. 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 


It  shall  be  our  endeavor  to  set  before  our  readers  a  plain 
exposition  of  this  great  Christian  doctrine,  as  taught  in  the 
holy  Scriptures,  and  as  generally  held  by  sound  Protestants. 

We  commence  with  some  remarks  on  the  scriptural 
meaning  of  the  ivord  "■justification  f  as  a  mistake  here 
may  spread  darkness  over  the  vi^hole  discussion. 

The  common  acceptation  of  the  word  "  to  justify,"  in 
the  Bible,  is,  to  acquit  from  all  charge,  to  declare  the  person 
to  stand  right  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  It  is  the  very  opposite 
of  "  condemnation."  And  in  this  sense  is  the  word  com- 
monly used  among  us.  To  "justify,"  is  not,  therefore,  to 
infuse  a  principle  of  justice  into  the  soul.  It  does  not  pro- 
duce an  inherent  change  of  moral  character.  The  import 
of  this  word  is  entirely  distinct  from  that  of  "  sanctification  ;" 
and  this  distinction  must  be  carefully  kept  in  view,  if  we 
would  avoid  error  and  confusion  in  the  investigation  of  the 
subject. 

That  the  word  is  commonly  used  in  this  declarative  or 
forensic  sense  in  the  holy  Scriptures,  might  be  evinced  by 
an  induction  of  numerous  passages  ;  let  a  few,  however,  suf- 
fice. God  is  said  to  be  "justified"  when  he  speaks  ;  that  is, 
he  appears  to  be  just,  Christ  is  declared  to  be  "justified  in 
the  Spirit ;"  his  true  character  was  manifested  and  vindi- 
cated. "  If  there  be  a  controversy  between  men,  and  they 
come  unto  judgment,  that  the  judges  may  judge  them,  then 
they  shall  justify  the  righteous,  and  condemn  the  wicked." 
Deut.  25  :  1 .     Here  we  have  the  true  import  of  the  word  as 

VOL.  X.  29* 


2  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

a  forensic  term,  and  standing  in  direct  opposition  to  condem- 
nation. -And  in  Exodus  23  :  7,  it  is  said,  "  For  I  will  not 
justify  the  wicked  ;"  that  is,  I  will  not  pronounce  the  wicked 
to  be  just.  And  in  Proverbs  17  :  15,  "He  that  justifieth 
the  wicked,  and  he  that  condemneth  the  just,  even  they 
both  are  abomination  to  the  Lord."  But  to  render  a  Avicked 
man  inherently  righteous,  is  so  far  from  being  an  abomina- 
tion to  the  Lord,  that  even  to  be  the  instrument  of  such  a 
change  is  followed  by  a  great  reward. 

In  the  same  sense  is  the  word  employed,  Isaiah  5  :  23, 
where  transgressors  are  characterized  as  those  who  "justify 
the  wicked  for  reward."  Solomon,  in  his  dedicatory  prayer, 
1  Kings,  8  :  32,  says,  "  Then  hear  thou  in  heaven  and  do, 
and  judge  thy  servants,  condemning  the  ivicked,  to  bring 
his  way  upon  his  head,  and  justifying  the  righteous,,  to 
give  him  according  to  his  righteousness."  Thus,  also,  is  the 
word  used  by  Paul :  "  Who  shall  lay  any  thing  to  the 
charge  of  God's  elect  ?  It  is  God  that  justifieth;  who  is  he 
that  condemneth  ?"  "By  the  deeds  of  the  law  shall  no 
flesh  be  justified  in  his  sight."  "  Being  justified  by  faith — 
freely  by  his  grace."  And  in  Homans  4:5,  God  is  said  to 
"justify  the  ungodly." 

Let  it  be  distinctly  borne  in  mind,  that  a  state  of  justifi- 
cation is  the  very  ojyposite  of  a  state  of  condemnation,  and 
there  can  be  no  material  mistake  respecting  the  true  import 
of  the  word.  He  who  is  condemned  is  considered  as  a  trans- 
gressor of  the  law,  whose  sins  are  still  imputed  to  him  ;  he 
who  is  justified  is  viewed  as  having,  though  not  of  his  own, 
that  which  satisfies  the  law — he  has  the  blessedness  of  the 
man  to  whom  the  Lord  imputeth  not  sin,  but  to  whom  he 
"imputes  righteousness  without  works." 

The  only  method  of  obtaining  the  favor  of  God,  which 
reason  and  conscience  dictate,  is,  doing  the  icill  of  God. 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  3 

Moral  agents,  put  on  probation,  if  they  persevere  in  obedi- 
ence during  the  period  of  their  trial,  are  "justified,"  and 
coiifirmed  in  a  state  of  integrity  and  happiness. 

When  an  accountable  creature,  or  a  race  of  accountable 
creatures,  fails  in  obedience,  the  penalty  of  the  law,  what- 
ever it  may  be,  is  incurred,  and  must  be  endured.  Both 
justice  and  truth  require  the  infliction  of  the  pvuiishment 
deserved,  and  threatened  to  transgressors.  The  justification 
of  a  sinner  appears,  therefore,  at  first  sight,  to  be  a  thing 
impossible,  in  consistence  with  the  divine  attributes.  To 
devise  a  plan  by  which  sinners  may  be  saved,  and  yet  the 
law  be  maintained  and  justice  satisfied,  was  beyond  the  wis- 
dom of  any  creature  ;  but  Avhat  finite  wisdom  could  not  ac- 
complish, the  wisdom  of  God  has  found  out ;  and  to  reveal 
this  plan  of  salvation,  and  the  terms  on  which  the  con- 
demned creature  may  be  made  a  partaker  of  it,  is  the  great 
design  of  divine  revelation.  This  is  the  mystery  into  which 
angels  desire  to  look.  It  is  the  "good  news"  which  the 
Gospel  announces.  It  will  be  a  theme  of  adoration  and 
grateful  praise  in  heaven,  through  eternal  ages  ;  and  all  who 
shall  arrive  at  heaven  by  this  method  of  salvation,  will  sing 
a  song  peculiar  to  themselves,  in  which  no  others  of  the 
heavenly  host  can  join,  "Unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and 
washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood." 

To  understand  how  God  can  be  just ^  and  justify  the  un- 
godly, let  us  contemplate  the  acknowledged  circumstances 
of  the  case.  God  is  a  holy  being,  and  his  law  is  like  himself, 
"holy,  just,  and  good."  This  law  cannot  be  set  aside,  or 
changed,  in  mercy  to  the  ofiender,  without  reflecting  dishon- 
or on  the  Lawgiver.  Better  there  were  no  law,  than  that 
its  claims  should  be  disregarded.  Better  that  all  creatures 
should  cease  to  exist,  than  that  any  dishonor  should  be  cast 
on  the  truth  or  justice  of  God.  If  the  infliction  of  the  pen- 
alty incurred  was  not  a  righteous  act,  such  a  penalty  never 


4  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

would  have  been  annexed  to  the  law.  All  hope  of  escape, 
founded  -on  the  idea  that  the  law  of  God  may  be  set  aside, 
or  its  demands  relaxed,  must  be  vain  ;  and  all  such  hopes 
are  impious,  as  they  are  founded  on  the  supposition  that 
God  will  "deny  himself."  Does  not  every  transgressor, 
then,  appear  to  be  shut  up  to  death  ? 

Some  maybe  ready  to  reply,  that  God  is  merciful  ^^ 
well  as  just,  and  the  sinner  may  hope  in  his  mercy ;  and 
that  to  insist  upon  the  rigid  execution  of  law,  in  all  cases, 
would  expunge  mercy  from  the  divine  attributes.  It  will 
also  be  alleged,  that  to  represent  the  supreme  Ruler  as  in- 
flexible in  his  justice,  and  requiring  the  utmost  farthing  of 
what  is  due  from  his  frail  creatures,  is  to  exhibit  him  in  an 
unamiable  light. 

This  view  of  the  subject  seems  plausible,  and  falls  in 
with  the  prevalent  opinions  and  feelings  of  men.  But  it 
ought  to  be  considered,  that  if  mercy  be  so  essential  to  God 
that  he  cannot  but  exercise  it  unless  he  show  himself  severe 
and  unamiable,  then  there  is  an  end  of  justice.  There  can 
be  no  place  for  it  in  the  dispensations  of  a  merciful  God. 
But  "  a  God  all  mercy  is  a  God  unjust." 

And  let  it  be  considered  again,  that  upon  these  princi- 
ples there  was  no  need  of  a  Mediator  to  expiate  our  sins, 
and  propitiate  an  offended  God.  To  the  sinner  God  ma3'" 
indeed  appear  lovely,  as  divested  of  his  righteousness,  and 
equally  good  to  the  transgressor  and  the  obedient  subject  ; 
just  as  the  criminal  condemned  by  human  laws,  would  es- 
teem that  judge  amiable  who  pardoned  his  crimes,  while 
upright  citizens  might  view  it  to  be  inconsistent  with  his 
character  as  a  righteous  judge.  But  the  inquiry  should  be, 
how  would  the  divine  character  appear  to  intelligent  and 
impartial  spectators,  if  sin  should  go  unpunished  ;  how  would 
this  be  viewed  by  the  "  holy  angels  ?"  And  surely,  with 
the  word  of  God  in  our  hands,  we  cannot  hesitate  to  believe 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  5 

that  God  is  just  and  holy,  and  that  he  "will  by  no  means 
clear  the  guilty." 

But  do  not  the  Scriptures  rcjyresent  God  as  a  merciful 
being;  and  are  not  all  invited  to  take  refuge  under  the 
wings  of  his  mercy  ?  Yes  ;  this  is  undoubtedly  true.  No 
attribute  is  more  frequently  and  emphatically  ascribed  to 
God  than  mercy  ;  and  by  no  other  is  liis  infinite  and  divine 
perfection  more  gloriously  manifested.  Throughout  the  holy 
Scriptures,  we  have  set  before  us  a  God  both  just  and  mer- 
ciful. Those  attributes,  therefore,  as  they  exist  in  God, 
must  be  harmonious  ;  and  the  exercise  of  the  one  must,  some- 
how, be  consistent  with  that  of  the  other.  Let  us,  therefore, 
endeavor  to  discover  how  they  may  be  harmonized,  how  the 
great  Creator  can  be  at  the  same  time  both  "  a  just  God  and 
a  Saviour." 

One  remark,  before  we  proceed  further,  seems  necessary 
to  prevent  mistakes.  There  exists  not  the  same  necessity 
for  the  exercise  of  mercy  as  of  justice.  God  is  obliged  by 
the  rectitude  of  his  nature,  to  be  always,  and  in  all  cases, 
just ;  but  he  is  not  bound,  in  all  cases  where  there  are  mis- 
erable sinners,  to  exercise  mercy.  The  example  of  the  fallen 
angels  settles  this  question.  Such  an  idea  of  mercy  would 
destroy  every  idea  of  justice.  There  could  remain  no  place 
for  its  exercise.  Mercy,  from  its  very  nature,  is  free.  To 
suppose  any  binding  obligation  to  show  mercy,  destroys  its 
nature  ;  it  would  then  be  confounded  with  justice.  The 
true  ground  of  distinction  between  justice  and  mercy  is, 
that  while  the  first  is  obligatory,  the  last  is  free,  and  may 
be  bestowed  or  withheld  at  the  pleasure  of  him  who  exer- 
cises it. 

The  true  principle  on  which  justice  and  mercy  may  be 
reconciled  is,  that  the  claims  of  justice  must  be  satisfied  in 
order  to  make  way  for  the  exercise  of  mercy.  If  no  plan 
could  have  been  devised  by  which  the  demands  of  the  law — 


6  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

which  are  the  same  as  the  claims  of  justice — could  be  satis- 
fied, then  had  the  exercise  of  mercy  been  impossible  in  the 
government  of  a  righteous  God.  But  herein  has  the  infinite 
wisdom  of  God  been  gloriously  displayed  by  the  plan  of  re- 
demption :  "  Mercy  and  truth  have  met  together  ;  righteous- 
ness and  peace  have  kissed  each  other."  According  to  this 
glorious  plan,  justice  and  mercy  are  both  manifested,  in  the 
most  conspicuous  manner,  in  the  obedience  of  Christ  unto 
death.  In  the  cross  these  divine  attributes  not  only  har- 
monize, but  shine  forth  with  brighter  rays  than  anywhere 
else.  Let  it  not  be  forgotten,  that  the  difficulty  in  the  way 
of  the  exercise  of  mercy  to  sinners,  required  to  be  overcome, 
was  nothing  else  than  the  demands  of  inflexible  justice^  and 
the  truth  of  God  pledged  in  an^iexing  the  penalty  of  death 
to  the  laiv.  No  plan  of  reconciliation  or  justification,  which 
does  not  provide  for  the  removal  of  this  difficulty,  is  admis- 
sible or  possible.  I  wish  this  point  to  be  clearly  understood, 
and  indelibly  fixed  in  the  memory  of  the  reader ;  for  other- 
wise he  will  be  in  danger  of  being  misled  by  false  theories. 

Let  us  then  take  an  accurate  survey  of  the  condition  of 
A  SINFUL  MAN,  Under  the  righteous  government  of  God.  We 
take  for  granted,  that  the  demands  of  the  law  of  God  are 
neither  annihilated  nor  diminished  in  consequence  of  his 
transgression.  Fallen  man  is  as  much  under  obligation  to 
love  God  with  all  the  heart,  mind,  and  strength,  as  imiocent 
man.  It  is  a  dictate  of  reason,  that  the  obligation  of  no 
law  is  removed  by  transgressing  it.  Neither  does  the  fact 
that  the  sinner  has  fallen  under  the  condemnation  of  the 
law,  free  him  from  the  obligation  to  obey  it.  Although 
some  have  held  this  opinion  to  prop  up  a  rotten  system, 
nothing  can  be  conceived  more  absurd.  This  supposes  the 
endurmg  the  penalty  of  the  law  to  be  a  full  equivalent  for 
perfect  obedience.     According  to  this,  the  man  who  .  had 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  7 

stood  in  the  pillory  for  perjury  as  long  as  the  penalty  of  the 
law  required,  would  be  as  deserving-  of  esteem  and  of  a  re- 
ward as  the  man  who  had  completely  obeyed  the  laws  of 
his  country.  Then  let  it  be  distinctly  kept  in  mind,  that 
on  a  transgressor  the  laic  has  a  double  demand :  first,  the 
original  requisition  of  perfect  obedience  ;  and  secondly,  a 
demand  that  the  penalty,  according  to  the  demerit  of  the 
offence,  be  endured.  And  before  he  can  be  justified  ac- 
cording to  this  law,  both  these  demands  must  be  met  and 
satisfied, 

A  mistake  on  this  point  has  led  many  astray  in  regard 
to  the  nature  of  a  sinner's  justification.  They  have  main- 
tained that  nothing  else  was  necessary  but  that  the  Surety 
endure  the  penalty  of  the  law,  or  make  atonement  for  sin  ; 
and  that  nothing  more  is  included  in  justification  than  the 
forgiveness  of  our  sins.  But  if  this  were  all,  justification 
would  leave  the  person  in  the  same  relation  to  the  law  in 
which  Adam  stood  M^hen  created  ;  that  is,  he  would  be  free 
from  the  penalty,  but  would  have  no  title  to  the  reward  of  a 
righteous  person.  But  the  very  word  "justify"  expresses 
much  more.  Strictly  speaking,  and  excluding  the  merits 
of  Christ,  pardon  and  justification  are  incompatible  ;  for  the 
first  supposes  the  person  to  have  been  a  transgressor,  the 
last  that  he  has  a  righteousness  fully  answering  the  de- 
mands of  the  law  ;  but  when  a  sinner  1%  justified  by  faith 
in  Christ,  while  he  receives  remission  of  sins  through  his 
blood,  he  is  accounted  righteous,  by  reason  of  the  perfect 
obedience,  unto  death,  of  his  Surety,  rendered  in  his  behalf 

Those  who  deny  the  necessity  of  the  active  obedience  of 
Christ,  as  included  in  the  meritorious  ground  of  a  sinner's 
justification,  are  driven  to  the  necessity  of  maintaining,  that 
the  person  must  acquire  a  title  to  eternal  life  by  his  own 
obedience  ;  and  they  suppose  that  this  doctrine  is  inculcated 
in  all  those  texts  which  speak  of  believers  being  rewarded 


8  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

"  according"  to  their  works  ;"  whereas,  if  eternal  life  was 
granted  -  only  in  consequence  of  Christ's  obedience,  they  al- 
legfe  all  would  share  alike,  and  there  would  not  be  different 
degrees  of  glory  among  the  saints  in  heaven.  But  this  is  to 
confound  the  title  to  eternal  life  with  the  degree  of  happi- 
ness to  be  enjoyed.  As  to  the  title,  all  do  stand  upon  a 
perfect  equality.  Heaven  is  as  sure  to  the  weakest  believer 
as  to  the  strongest ;  to  the  man  who  lived  only  to  perform 
one  good  work,  as  to  him  that  abounded  in  good  works 
througfh  a  long  life.  But  it  does  not  follow  from  this,  that 
the  happiness  and  glory  of  all  believers  shall  be  equal.  All, 
it  is  reasonable  to  believe,  will  not  have  the  same  capacity 
of  heavenly  happiness ;  and  it  is  meet,  that  they  who  have 
labored  most  and  suffered  most,  should  enjoy  most  hereafter. 
This  furnishes  a  good  reason  for  what  we  find  clearly  taught 
by  our  Lord  and  his  apostles,  that  in  the  day  of  judgment 
the  good  works  of  the  righteous  Avill  be  brought  into  public 
view ;  as  well  that  they  may  furnish  a  measure  of  their 
respective  rewards,  as  that  they  may  furnish  conclusive 
evidence  of  the  sincerity  of  their  profession. 

Although  the  active  obedience  of  Christ,  as  well  as  his 
sufferings  and  death,  are  necessary  to  a  justifying  righteous- 
ness ;  yet  there  is  no  necessity  nor  propriety  in  curiously 
endeavoring  to  separate  the  parts  of  our  Saviour's  finished 
work.  As  has  been  well  remarked  by  a  profound  theo- 
logian, "  In  his  sufferings  he  obeyed,  and  in  his  obedi- 
ence he  suffered. ''  His  mediatorial  work,  like  his  robe, 
cannot  be  divided  into  separate  parts.  Still,  we  can  con- 
ceive of  a  distinction  between  that  which  was  necessary  to 
satisfy  the  precept,  and  that  which  was  required  to  satisfy 
the  penalty  of  the  law.  And  if  there  Avere  any  uncertainty 
whether  all  the  acts  of  Christ's  obedience  Avere  strictly  vica 
rious,  yet  it  would  be  our  safe  course  to  exclude  nothing 
which  God  has  not  excluded.     When  the  apostle  says,  "  by 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  9 

his  OBEDIENCE  many  are  constituted  righteous,"  no  man  has 
a  right  to  Umit  the  word,  which  is  left  in  the  holy  Scrip- 
tures without  limitation. 

Having  seen,  that  in  order  to  a  sinner's  justification,  the 
law  demands  a  righteousness  which  shall  answer  both  its 
precept  and  its  penalty  ;  let  us  next  inquire,  has  Jesus 
Christ  the  Mediator  provided  such  a  righteousness  ? 
And  here  it  is  comfortable  to  the  convinced  sinner  to  learn, 
that  "  He  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every 
one  that  belie veth."  That  "  He  of  God  is  made  unto  us 
righteousness,"  and  is  called,  "  The  Lord  our  righteous- 
ness." And  that  "  there  is  no  condemnation  to  them  that 
are  in  Christ  Jesus."  That  "  He  who  knew  no  sin,  was 
made  sin  for  us,  that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness 
of  God  in  him." 

But  why  may  not  a  sinner  be  justified  by  his  otv7i  right- 
eousness ?  For  the  best  reason  in  the  world  :  because  he 
has  none  which  will  answer  the  law's  demand.  All  will 
admit,  that  the  external  obedience  of  an  unrenewed  man, 
whether  to  the  moral  or  ceremonial  law,  cannot  be  a  right- 
eousness that  a  holy  God  can  accept  as  the  ground  of  his 
justification.  Such  a  righteousness  is,  indeed,  well  de- 
scribed by  the  prophet,  as  "filthy  rags."  That  which  has 
no  particle  of  real  holiness  in  it,  surely  cannot  answer  the 
demands  of  that  holy  law  which  requires  "  truth  in  the 
inward  parts,"  and  perfect  rectitude  in  every  thought  and 
desire.  It  is,  therefore,  universally  agreed  among  Protes- 
tants, that  "  dead  works,"  or  mere  external  obedience,  can 
justify  no  one. 

Still,  it  is  contended  by  some,  that  the  "  new  obedience" 

of  a  sanctified  soul  may,  by  a  gracious  God,  be  received  as 

a  justifying  righteousness.     Others,  to  be  more  conformable 

to  the  language  of  Scripture,  ascribe  our  justification  to  the 

VOL.  X.  30 


10  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

single  grace  of  faith,  or  act  of  believing.  But  we  will  now 
show  that  no  works  of  ours,  nor  any  holiness  wrought  in  us, 
is  the  ground  of  our  justification. 

The  arguments  from  which  it  is  evident  that  our  justi- 
fication is  not  071  account  of  inherent  holiness,  or  good  works 
'proceeding  from  faith,  are  these  : 

Justification  is  a  sentence  according  to  laiv  ;  but  the 
law  demands  a  perfect  righteousness  :  the  imperfect,  though 
sincere  obedience  of  the  believer,  is  not  a  ground  on  which 
God,  as  a  righteous  Judge,  can  pronounce  the  sinner  justi- 
fied. Even  if  the  believer  could  attain  to  perfection  in  this 
life — which  none  ever  did — this  would  not  answer  for  a 
perfect  righteousness  ;  for  when  a  man  stands  in  judgment 
before  God,  he  must  answer  for  the  whole  of  his  life,  and 
not  a  part  only.  The  believer  cannot  be  justified  by  his 
evangelical  obedience,  because  this  foUoics  his  acceptance 
with  God,  and  cannot  therefore  be  its  cause.  The  ungodly 
are  the  persons  whom  God  justifies  ;  therefore,  they  are  not 
justified  by  their  own  obedience,  for  they  remain  ungodly  up 
to  the  very  moment  when  they  are  justified. 

The  justification  of  the  sinner,  according  to  the  apostle 
Paul,  excludes  boasting ;  but  if  a  man  is  justified  by  his 
own  works,  of  whatever  kind,  he  has  a  ground  of  glorying ; 
therefore  justification  is  not  by  "works  of  righteousness 
which  we  have  done." 

Again,  justification  is  entirely  gratuitous,  and  therefore 
not  by  works  of  any  kind.  "  Being  justified  freely  by  his 
grace."  Now,  between  works  and  grace  there  is,  according 
to  Paul,  an  irreconcilable  opposition  as  it  relates  to  the 
ground  of  a  sinner's  acceptance.  "And  if  by  grace,  it  is 
then  no  more  of  works  ;  otherwise  grace  is  no  more  grace. 
But  if  it  be  of  works,  then  it  is  no  more  grace  ;  otherwise 
work  is  no  more  work." 

It  detracts  from  the  ho?ior  of  Christ  and  the  merit  of 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  H 

his  mediatorial  work,  to  ascribe  justification,  in  whole  or  in 
part,  to  man's  obedience.  If  it  had  been  consistent  with 
God's  perfections  to  accept  of  an  imperfect  obedience  from 
the  creature,  where  was  the  need  of  a  divine  Mediator  ? 
Did  Christ  the  Son  of  God  come  into  the  world  and  die  on 
the  cross,  merely  to  render  the  imperfect  obedience  of  the 
sinner  acceptable  ?  This  supposition  is  not  honorable  to 
the  divine  Redeemer,  neither  is  it  in  accordance  with  holy 
Scripture.  There,  all  is  ascribed  to  Christ's  redemption — to 
his  blood — to  his  righteousness — to  his  obedience.  Christ  is 
the  foundation — the  corner-stone — the  way,  the  truth,  and 
the  life — the  alpha  and  omega — the  beginning  and  end  of 
our  salvation.  He  that  glories,  must  glory  in  the  Lord. 
The  everlasting  song  of  the  redeemed  will  be,  "  Not  unto 
us,  but  unto  Him  that  loved  us  and  washed  us  from  our  sins 
in  his  own  blood." 

And  what  says  the  experience  of  the  children  of  God  ? 
Are  they  willing  to  trust  for  salvation  to  such  a  broken  reed 
as  their  own  obedience ;  and  are  they  disposed  to  detract 
any  thing  from  the  glory  of  the  Redeemer  in  their  salvation  ? 
Is  there  one  among  them  who  would  wish  to  put  in  a  claim 
for  any  part  of  the  honor  of  this  work  ? 

But  what  need  is  there  to  argue  a  point  which  is  so 
explicitly  and  positively  decided  by  the  pen  of  inspiration  ? 
"Therefore,"  says  Paul,  "by  the  deeds  of  the  law,  there 
shall  no  flesh  be  justified  in  his  sight."  And,  as  if  to  cut 
ofT  all  pretence  that  he  meant  the  ceremonial  law  of  Moses, 
he  immediately  adds,  "  for  by  the  law  is  the  knowledge  of 
sin."  Now,  Paul  tells  us  in  another  place  ivhat  law  pro- 
duced in  him  the  knowledge  of  sin,  namely,  the  law  con- 
tained in  the  ten  commandments  ;  "for,"  says  he,  "  I  had  not 
known  sin,  unless  the  law  had  said,  Thou  shalt  not  covet." 
And  this  is  given  as  a  reason  by  the  apostle,  why  there 
could  be  no  justification  by  the  law  ;  for  if  a  man  was  only 


12  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

convicted  of  one  sin  by  the  law,  it  is  evident  that  justifica- 
tion, to  him,  by  that  lavi^,  is  as  impossible  as  if  he  had  vio- 
lated every  precept.  As  justification  and  condemnation  are 
opposite  states  in  relation  to  the  law,  he  who  is  condemned, 
if  it  were  only  for  one  sm,  and  that  the  smallest,  never  can 
be  justified  by  a  broken  law.  For  one  sin  incurs  the  penal- 
ty ;  as  it  is  written,  "  Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth 
not  in  all  things  written  in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them." 

Some  dream  of  a  new  and  milder  law  under  the  Gos- 
pel, by  which  believers  are  justified ;  but  there  is  none 
such — there  can  be  none  such.  The  Scriptures  never  men- 
tion any  other  moral  law  than  the  law  requiring  perfect 
love,  and  which  is  summarily  comprehended  in  the  ten 
commandments.  To  this  our  Saviour  continually  appeals, 
as  universally  binding — as  intended,  originally,  to  give  life 
to  those  who  obeyed  it ;  and  as  the  perfect  rule  which  all 
should  follow.  The  apostles  refer  to  no  other  law,  as  might 
be  proved  by  numerous  testimonies.  Indeed,  the  very  sup- 
position of  a  change  in  the  moral  law  is  monstrous  ;  it  would 
imply  a  change  in  the  Lawgiver,  which  is  nothing  less  than 
blasphemy. 

God  does,  it  is  true,  accept  from  his  people  an  obedience 
mingled  with  defects  and  imperfections  ;  but  not  as  their 
justifying  righteousness  :  it  is  for  Christ's  sake,  and  because 
they  are  already  "  accepted  in  the  Beloved."  "  Being  justi- 
fied freely  by  his  grace,  through  the  redemption  that  is  in 
Christ  Jesus,"  they  are  adopted  into  the  number  of  sons 
and  daughters ;  and  having  his  righteousness  imputed  to 
them,  or  set  down  to  their  account,  there  is  no  condemna- 
tion to  them.  "  Who  shall  lay  any  thing  to  the  charge  of 
God's  elect  ?  It  is  God  that  justifieth  ;  who  is  he  that 
condemneth?"  It  is  said  of  believers,  that  "they  are 
passed  from  death  unto  life,  and  shall  never  come  into  con- 
demnation." 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  13 

But  we  are  said  to  be  justified  by  faith  :  how  is  this 
to  be  understood  ?  This  doctrine  stands  out  prominently  in 
the  New  Testament,  and  the  Reformers  considered  it  the 
cardinal  point,  or  the  centre  of  the  Christian  religion.  Lu- 
ther, as  far  as  doctrine  was  concerned,  commenced  the  Ref- 
ormation by  7'estoring  this  doctrine  to  its  jrroper  'place  ;  and 
all  true  reformers,  ever  since,  have  placed  justification  by 
faith  at  the  foundation  of  their  system,  and  made  it  the  bur- 
den of  their  preaching ;  and  the  neglect  of  this  doctrine,  or 
a  disposition  to  explain  it  away,  or  not  to  maintain  it  in  its 
simple  and  obvious  meaning,  is  an  evidence  of  a  corrupt 
system  of  theology,  and  marks  a  deviation  from  the  truth  in 
other  particulars.  This  doctrine  is  as  essential  in  the  sys- 
tem of  divine  truth,  as  the  centre  of  gravity  in  bodies ;  in 
both  cases  these  points  must  be  firmly  supported,  or  the  sys- 
tem falls. 

But  we  return  to  the  important  question,  How  does 
faith  justify  a  sinner  ?  Certainly  not  on  account  of  anjr 
merit  in  the  act  of  faith.  They  who  maintain  this,  fall  into 
no  less  an  error  than  substituting  an  act  of  our  minds  for 
Christ  and  his  righteousness.  Faith  may,  in  a  certain 
sense,  be  called  a  work ;  but  it  is  not  as  a  work  that  it  jus- 
tifies, or  it  would  never  have  been,  as  it  is,  placed  in  strong 
contrast  with  works.  Though  faith  be  an  act  of  obedience 
to  the  law  of  God,  it  is  not  as  such  that  it  justifies.  Hear 
what  Paul  teaches  on  this  point :  "  Therefore  Ave  conclude, 
that  a  man  is  justified  by  faith  without  the  deeds  of  the 
law."  "  Now  to  him  that  worketh  is  the  reward  not  reck- 
oned of  grace,  but  of  debt.  But  to  him  that  worketh  not, 
but  believeth  on  Him  that  justifieth  the  ungodly,  his  faith 
is  counted  for  righteousness."  To  interpret  this  last  phrase 
as  though  Paul  intended  to  teach  that  the  act  of  believing 
was  the  righteousness  by  which  the  ungodly  are  justified, 
would  be  to  make  him  most  palpably  contradict  himself; 
^^0L.  X.  30*^ 


14  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

for  that  construction  would  not  only  make  faith  a  work  in 
the  affair  of  justification,  but  a  substitute  for  all  other 
works  ;  whereas  the  apostle,  in  this  passage,  says,  "  But  to 
him  that  ivorketh  not,  but  believeth  in  Him  that  justi- 
fieth  the  ungodly  ;"  that  is,  who  performs  no  works  as  a 
righteousness  by  which  he  expects  to  obtain  the  favor  of 
God  ;  but  in  regard  to  works,  is  considered,  when  justified, 
as  an  ungodly  person — one  who  has  no  goodness  of  his  own 
to  plead,  "  but  believeth"  Here  faith  must  be  considered 
as  a  mere  instrument,  or  organ,  by  which  Christ  is  re- 
ceived. 

But  why  is  it  said  to  be  "counted  for  righteousness?" 
For  no  other  reason  but  because  it  is  that  act  of  the  soul 
by  which  Christ,  who  is  the  Lord  oup^  righteousness,  is 
apprehended,  appreciated,  and  appropriated.  A  reprieve  is 
obtained  by  a  great  price  from  the  king ;  the  benevolent 
person  who  procured  it  offers  it  to  the  condemned  criminal, 
who  eagerly  stretches  out  his  hand  to  receive  it.  If  his  ac- 
ceptance were  made  the  condition  of  his  deliverance,  the 
case  would  be  a  striking  parallel  to  the  ofier  of  pardon  and 
the  divine  favor  to  a  sinner.  The  blessings  of  the  Gospel 
are  suspended  on  the  act  of  believing.  This  is,  in  fact,  the 
cordial  reception  of  the  blessing.  But  who  would  think  of 
ascribing  merit  to  the  mere  act  of  receiving  a  pardon  by  a 
condemned  criminal  ?  As  little  reason  is  there  for  consider- 
ing the  act  of  faith  by  which  we  receive  Christ's  righteous- 
ness as  either  meritorious,  or  as  standing  in  the  place  of  a 
perfect  righteousness,  and  accepted  as  such,  though  mani- 
festly very  far  short. of  being  all  that  the  law  demands. 

But  Jioiv  can  the  rightemisness  of  the  Redeemer  be 
available  to  the  justification  of  the  sinner  ?  To  this  I  re- 
ply, that  from  eternity  Christ  undertook,  in  the  covenant  of 
redemption,  to  satisfy  law  and  justice  for  all  who  were  given 
to  him  by  the  Father  in  that  covenant — all  who  should  be- 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  15 

lieve  on  him.  When  incarnate,  he  bore  their  sins,  and  for 
them  fulfilled  all  righteousness — did  all  that  was  required 
as  a  satisfaction  to  law  and  justice.  "As  by  the  disobedi- 
ence of  one  many  were  made  sinners,  so  by  the  obedience  of 
One  shall  many  be  made,"  constituted,  "righteous."  "He 
is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one  that  be- 
lieveth."  Now,  if  the  union,  by  covenant  between  the  first 
Adam  and  his  posterity,  was  so  close  that  by  his  fatal  trans- 
gression they  all  died,  why  may  there  not  be  formed  a  union 
as  intimate  between  Christ  and  his  people  ?  This  is  the 
very  principle  on  which  the  apostle  argues  in  the  fifth  of 
Romans.  But  the  children  of  God  are,  "  by  nature,  chil- 
dren of  wrath,  even  as  others."  They,  in  their  natural  con- 
dition, are  under  the  curse  of  the  law ;  for  we  read,  that 
"  Christ  was  made  a  curse  for  us,  to  redeem  us  from  the 
curse  of  the  law."  They  continue  aliens  from  the  common- 
wealth of  Israel,  until,  by  the  gracious  intercession  of  their 
Redeemer,  the  Holy  Spirit  is  sent  to  bring  them  to  Christ. 
On  their  part,  faith  is  the  act  by  which  they  receive  Christ. 
This  consummates  the  spiritual  union  between  him  as  the 
Head,  and  them  as  the  members.  This  union  is  of  such  a 
nature,  that,  in  law,  whatever  the  Surety  has  done  or  suf- 
fered, can  be  set  down  to  their  account ;  or,  as  the  apostle's 
phrase  is,  "  righteousness  is  imputed  to  them."  By  having 
this  perfect  righteousness  reckoned  to  them,  they  are  instant- 
ly and  completely  justified,  God  is  now  reconciled  to  them 
through  the  death  of  his  Son.  All  their  sins  are  freely  par- 
doned, and  they  are  adopted  as  sons,  and  immediately  made 
heirs  of  eternal  life.  Here  then  we  see  how  faith  justifies 
as  an  instrument  of  union  and  reception ;  and  in  what  sense 
it  is  "counted  for  righteousness."  We  also  see  how  a  con- 
trast can  be  set  up  between  faith  and  works — ^between  grace 
and  debt. 

But  although  faith  alone  justifies,  and  justifies  not  as  a 


16  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

work,  yet  it  is  a  ivorking  faith  which  justifies.  It  is  the 
fruitful-  principle  of  sanctification,  and  of  all  evangelical 
obedience,  or  good  works.  And  as  there  is  a  "dead"  as 
well  as  a  living  faith,  and  many  have  been  deceived  by 
glorying  in  the  former,  while  they  were  destitute  of  the  lat- 
ter, we  should  guard  this  point  with  especial  care.  The 
doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  without  works,  is  very  lia- 
ble to  be  perverted  and  abused  by  carnal  men,  who  vainly 
dream  of  being  saved  in,  not  from  their  sins.  This  corrupt 
leaven  began  to  ferment  in  the  church  in  the  days  of  the 
apostles.  James  wrote  his  epistle  with  a  view  to  detect 
and  expose  this  dangerous  error.  He  seems,  at  first  view, 
expressly  to  contradict  what  the  apostle  Paul  had  taught ; 
for  he  says,  "  Ye  see,  then,  how  that  by  works  a  man  is  jus- 
tified, and  not  by  faith  only."  But  when  the  context  is 
impartially  considered,  the  appearance  of  contradiction  van- 
ishes, and  we  find  his  doctrine  harmonious  with  that  of 
Paul  ;  for  he  is  speaking  of  a  mere  nominal  "  dead  faith," 
which  manifested  itself  by  no  good  works.  No  man  was 
ever  justified  by  such  a  faith.  He  is  not  speaking  of  that 
justification  which  takes  place  when  a  sinner  first  believes — 
the  only  foundation  of  which  is  the  merit  of  Christ — but  he 
is  speaking  of  that  justification  arising  from  the  evangelical 
works  of  believers,  by  ivhich  their  faith  is  proved  to  be  gen- 
uine, and  their  profession  is  evidenced  to  be  sincere  ;  and 
with  which  acts  of  obedience  God  is  also  well-pleased,  for 
he  will  not  "forget  the  works  of  faith  and  labors  of  love"  of 
his  own  dear  children.  The  instances  which  he  gives,  es- 
pecially that  of  Abraham,  show  his  meaning  plainly  enough. 
"  Was  not  Abraham  our  father  justified  by  works,  when  he 
had  ofi^ered  Isaac  his  son  upon  the  altar  ?"  But  Abraham 
was  in  covenant  with  God,  and  of  course  justified  a  long 
time  before  he  performed  this  act ;  but  this  proved  his  sin- 
cerity and  the  strength  of  his  faith.     By  that  extraordinary 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  17 

act  of  obedience,  in  which  Abraham,  without  hesitation  or 
reluctance,  ofiered  up  his  only  and  well-beloved  son  at  the 
command  of  God,  he  met  the  approbation  of  his  Maker ; 
and  this  approbation  was  publicly  expressed ;  which  expres- 
sion of  divine  favor  is,  by  James,  without  much  departure 
from  the  usual  signification  of  the  word,  termed  "justifica- 
tion," and  is  of  the  same  kind  with  that  public  approbation 
of  the  good  works  of  the  righteous  which  will  take  place  at 
the  day  of  judgment,  which  is  also  called  justification  by  our 
Lord.  "  For,"  says  he,  "  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  justi- 
fied." Matt.  12  :  37.  Many,  however,  in  reconciling  James 
with  Paul,  choose  to  interpret  the  word  justify,  as  used  by 
James,  to  signify  the  manifestation  of  the  sincerity  of  our 
profession  of  faith  in  the  sight  of  men  ;  to  which  I  make  no 
objection,  as  this  interpretation  doubtless  accords  with  truth, 
but  I  consider  what  I  before  stated  as  the  precise  meaning 
of  this  apostle. 

As  the  word  justification  is  borrowed  from  the  proceed- 
ings of  courts  of  justice,  and  is  therefore  said  to  be  a  forensic 
term,  I  will,  by  way  of  illustration  and  practical  application 
of  the  subject,  suppose  the  case  of  a  convificed  simier  ar- 
raigned hefcyre  the  tribuTial  of  God,  to  be  tried  for  the  ac- 
tions of  his  whole  life.  The  Judge  being  omniscient  and 
infinitely  just,  can  neither  be  deceived  nor  biassed.  The 
rule  of  judgment  must  be  his  own  perfect  law  :  no  other 
standard  of  right  can  be  admitted  or  conceived  of  in  this 
court.  The  demands  of  this  law  are,  perfect  obedience  in 
heart  and  life  :  all  deviations  from  the  law,  even  in  thought 
and  desire,  as  well  as  in  word  and  deed,  are  marked  as  sins. 
If  any  man  had  uniformly  done  all  that  the  law  required, 
he  might  be  adjudged  to  the  possession  of  eternal  life  on 
account  of  his  own  obedience  ;  that  is,  he  would  be  justified 
by  his  own  works.     The  language  of  the  law  is,  "  He  that 


15  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

doeth  these  things,  shall  live  in  them."  "  This  do,  and  thou 
shalt  live."     "  The  law  was  given  unto  life." 

But  the  person  arraigned  is  conscious  that  he  is  a  sin- 
ner, and  therefore  cannot  possibly  be  justified  in  this  way. 
While  his  conviction  is  partial,  and  his  knowledge  of  sin 
indistinct,  he  very  naturally  makes  efibrts  at  amendment 
and  reformation.  His  ignorance  of  the  extent  and  spiritu- 
ality of  the  law  leads  him  to  hope  that  he  can  make,  by  fu- 
ture obedience,  a  compensation  for  the  past.  But  increasing 
light  convinces  him  that  these  hopes  are  utterly  fallacious  ; 
for  he  finds  that  no  future  obedience,  however  perfect,  would 
have  any  efiect  to  cancel  the  debt  already  contracted  ;  and 
he  now  finds,  by  sad  experience,  that  he  cannot  keep  the 
law  perfectly  for  one  moment. 

Under  this  conviction  we  suppose  him  to  stand  arraigned 
before  the  heart-searching  Judge ;  and  when  confronted 
with  the  law  and  a  list  of  his  sins — of  omission  as  well  as 
commission — of  thought,  word,  and  deed,  with  all  their  ag- 
gravations— what  plea  can  he  ofier ;  what  defence  can  he 
make  ?  Alas,  he  attempts  nothing  of  the  kind.  His  mouth 
is  st02)j)ed.  He  stands  speechless  before  his  Judge.  Or 
rather,  he  acknowledges  every  thing.  He  admits  every 
charge  to  be  true.  He  joins  in  his  own  condemnation  ;  and 
justifies  God  for  the  sentence  which  he  is  convinced  that 
justice  requires  him  to  pronounce.  He  sees  no  way  of  es- 
cape ;  for  all  his  vain  refuges  in  which  he  once  trusted  are 
now  swept  away.  And  he  expects  nothing  else  but  that  he 
shall  be  sent  away  into  everlasting  punishment.  But  under 
this  awful  conviction,  he  brings  no  complaint  against  the 
law  which  condemns  him,  nor  against  his  righteous  Judge. 
He  takes  all  the  blame  and  guilt  to  himself,  and  fully  "  ac- 
cepts the  punishment  of  his  sins,"  as  a  just  award.  His 
language  is  like  that  of  David,  "Against  thee,  thee  only, 
have  I  sinned,  and  done  this  evil  in  thy  sight ;  that  thou 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  19 

mightest  be  justified  when  tliou  speakest,  and  be  clear  when 
thou  judgest." 

He  has,  indeed,  heard  of  a  proclamation  of  mercy  ;  but 
though  it  excites  a  vague,  trembling  hope  that  relief  is 
possible,  yet  lie  sees  not  hoiv  it  is  possible  fm'  him  to  escape 
from  the  grasp  of  inflexible  justice  in  which  he  is  held — for 
now  he  dares  not  even  ask  that  the  law  which  condemns 
him  should  be  either  set  aside,  suspended,  or  relaxed.  Any 
thing  of  this  kind  his  enlightened  conscience  correctly  judges 
to  be  altogether  out  of  the  question.  No  doubt,  this  is  an 
awful  moment  in  the  existence  of  the  sinner,  and  he  is 
ready  to  give  himself  up  for  lost. 

But  hold — AN  Advocate  rises  in  the  court,  and  offers  to 
undertake  his  cause.  And  it  is  One  who  has  the  ear  of  the 
Judge,  and  who  appears  in  the  sinner's  own  nature.  It  is 
the  incarnate  Son  of  God,  who  says  to  the  convicted  sinner, 
"  Commit  your  cause  to  me  with  confidence,  and  I  will 
bring  you  oft'  victorious.  However  deep  your  guilt,  how- 
ever multiplied  your  transgressions,  a  full  and  free  pardon 
will  be  sure,  the  moment  you  trust  yourself  into  my  Jiands." 
And  then,  to  encourage  confidence  in  his  ability,  he  shows 
that  he  has  rendered  an  infinitely  meritorious  obedience  to 
this  very  law,  and  has  in  his  own  body  endured  the  curse 
which  it  denounces  upon  transgressors  ;  and  that  he  has 
acquired  the  right  to  obtain  the  redemption  of  all  to  whom 
this  righteousness  shall  be  applied. 

The  convinced  siinier  sees,  with  joy  and  astonishment, 
that  there  is  a  ivay  in  which  all  his  grievous  sins  can  be 
pardoned,  and  he  be  restored  to  the  favor  of  a  justly  oflended 
God.  Now  he  believes  with  all  his  heart.  Now  he  accepts 
the  kind  offer  of  the  Saviour  to  be  his  advocate.  Now  he 
commits  himself,  and  all  his  souFs  concerns,  into  the  hands 
of  a  faithful  Redeemer.  Now  his  burden  of  grief  is  re- 
moved, and  he  rejoices  in  the  riches  of  grace  in  Christ  Jesus; 


20  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

and  his  heart,  hitherto  so  insensible,  melts  into  love  and 
gratitude.  And  now,  though  he  may  have  confidence  that 
his  sins  are  all  blotted  out,  and  shall  never  rise  in  remem- 
brance against  him,  yet  his  heart  breaks  with  ingenuous 
relentings,  and  godly  sorrow  gushes  out  in  a  flood. 

He  can  now  look  up  with  humble  confidence  to  his 
Judge,  and  plead  the  perfect  righteousness  of  his  Surety. 
He  sees  that  God  is  propitiated  by  the  meritorious  sacrifice 
of  his  own  Son  ;  and  feels  that  a  blessed  reconciliation  has 
taken  place  between  him  and  his  God.  For,  on  the  part  of 
God,  his  anger  is  appeased.  He  is  well-pleased  with  his 
own  dear  Son,  and  with  all  who  stand  robed  in  his  perfect 
righteousness  :  and  as  to  his  own  enmity  against  God  and 
his  government,  he  finds  that  it  is  slain  by  a  vieiv  of  the 
cross;  and  already  he  begins  to  experience  something  of  the 
sweet  spirit  of  adoiJtion,  and  the  hojie  which  maketh  not 
ashamed  springs  up  in  his  breast,  never  more  to  leave  him, 
but  to  be,  in  all  temptations,  troubles,  and  storms,  as  "an 
anchor  to  his  soul,  sure  and  steadfast,  entering  into  that 
within  the  veil." 

Thus  is  the  sinner  actually  justified  by  faith  in  Christ 
Jesus.  There  is  no  longer  any  legal  condemnation  to  him  ; 
for  though  he  sin — and  there  is  no  man  that  liveth,  and  sin- 
neth  not — his  Advocate  ever  lives  to  intercede  for  him,  and 
to  plead,  for  his  pardon,  the  complete  atonement  which  he 
has  made.  And  a  soul  once  justified  never  can  fall  again 
under  the  condemnation  of  the  law,  unless  Christ  should 
cease  to  intercede,  or  should  no  longer  apply  to  his  benefit 
his  own  perfect  righteousness.  Clouds  and  darkness  may 
often  obscure  his  evidences  of  sonship,  and  his  comfort  may 
be  greatly  interrupted  through  his  own  remaining  unbelief, 
and  the  temptations  of  the  adversary  ;  but  none  shall  be 
able  to  pluck  him  out  of  the  hands  of  his  heavenly  Father, 
nor  out  of  the  hands  of  his  ever-faithful  Shepherd. 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  21 

After  this  account  of  the  gospel  method  of  a  sinner's 
gratuitous  justification,  will  any  still  bring  forward  the  old 
stale  objection,  that  by  this  plan  we  are  overthrowing  the 
obligation  of  the  moral  law,  and  tindermining  the  founda- 
tions of  Qnwality  and  good  works  ?  If  there  be  any  such 
objectors,  let  Paul  answer  them  :  ''  Do  we  make  void  the 
law  through  faith  ?  God  forbid ;  nay,  we  establish  the 
law."  "  Shall  we  continue  in  sin,  that  grace  may  abound  ? 
God  forbid  ;  how  shall  we,  that  are  dead  to  sin,  live  any 
longer  therein?"  Some  did,  indeed,  slanderously  report  of 
the  apostle  and  his  fellow-teachers,  that  they  said,  "  Let  us 
do  evil  that  good  may  come."  Concerning  all  who  would 
say  this,  Paul  declares,  that  "  their  damnation  is  just." 

And  what  does  uniform  experience  testify  in  regard  to 
the  lives  of  those  who  maintain  this  doctrine  ?  Are  they 
more  loose  in  their  lives  than  others  ?  Have  they  not,  in 
all  ages,  rather  been  the  humble,  self-denying,  faithful  imi- 
tators of  Christ  ?  So  far  are  they  from  pleading  any  ex- 
emption from  the  law  as  a  rule  of  life,  or  taking  occasion 
to  indulge  in  sin  because  grace  abounds,  that  they  "  delight 
ill  the  law  of  God  after  the  inner  man" — hunger  and  thirst 
after  righteousness — and  feel  the  remainder  of  sin  dwelling  in 
them  to  be  their  greatest  burden  and  sorest  affliction,  which 
causes  them  to  groan,  and  to  exclaim  with  Paul,  "  0  wretch- 
ed man  that  I  am  ;  who  shall  deliver  me  from  this  body  of 
death?"  Justifying  faith  works  by  love,  and  love  is  the 
very  spring  and  essence  of  all  holy  obedience.  Gratitude 
impels  the  reconciled  sinner  to  be  zealous  for  good  works. 
"  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  him."  He  feels  that  being 
"bought  with  a  price,"  he  is  "not  his  own,"  and  should 
"  glorify  God  in  his  body  and  spirit,  which  are  God's." 


VOL.  X.  81 


22  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

SUMMARY  OF  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  JUSTIFICATION. 


The    Scripture   doctrine   of  justification  may  be   briefly 
summed  up  in  the  following  particulars. 

1.  It  is  God  that  justifies. 

2.  Justification  is  wholly  gratuitous,  without  merit  and 
without  any  works  of  our  own  as  its  ground. 

3.  The  merit  of  Christ,  as  Mediator,  expressed  in  Scrip- 
ture by  his  righteousness,  his  obedience,  his  blood,  his  death, 
his  life,  his  sacrifice,  is  the  true  and  only  meritorious  ground 
of  a  sinner's  pardon  and  acceptance. 

4.  The  justification  of  the  ungodly  includes  the  remis- 
sion of  sins,  by  which  often  it  is  expressed  in  Scripture  ;  but 
it  also  includes  their  acceptance  as  righteous,  for  the  sake  of 
Christ's  perfect  righteousness  reckoned  to  their  account. 

5.  Justification  is  by  faith,  as  the  instrument  of  union 
to  Christ,  and  the  reception  of  his  righteousness. 

6.  The  faith  which  justifies  is  always  a  living,  operative, 
fruitful  faith.  No  one  is  justified  by  a  faith  which  is  alone, 
or  unattended  with  good  works. 

7.  Justification  and  sanctification,  though  inseparably 
connected,  and  equally  necessary  to  salvation,  are  neverthe- 
less distinct  blessings  of  the  new  covenant ;  and  the  latter 
is  the  only  certain  evidence  of  the  possession  of  the  former. 

8.  Justification  takes  place  at  the  moment  of  believing, 
and  is  as  perfect  at  once  as  it  can  ever  be,  and  there  can 
be  no  place  for  a  second  justification  in  the  sight  of  God, 
and  in  relation  to  his  law ;  but  there  is  a  manifestation  of 
the  genuineness  of  our  faith  and  sincerity  of  our  profession, 
both  in  thi&  world  and  at  the  day  of  judgment,  which  is  also 
sometimes  called  justification. 

9.  No  plan  of  justification  which  does  not  make  a  com- 
plete provision  for  the  satisfaction  of  all  the  demands  of  law 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH.  23 

and  justice,  is  honorable  to  God  or  agreeable  to  Scripture. 
By  this  single  test  may  all  erroneous  theories  of  justification 
be  tried  and  condemned. 


The  importance  of  the  doctrine  of  a  sinner's  justification 
before  God,  is  not  exceeded  by  that  of  any  other  in  the  whole 
circle  of  divine  truth.  Without  justification  it  is  evident 
that  no  man  can  be  saved.  It  is  then  a  vital  subject. 
Eternal  life  is  involved  in  it.  For  let  it  be  considered,  that 
there  is  here  no  middle  ground.  He  that  is  not  in  a  state 
of  j  ustification  must  be  in  a  state  of  condemnation  ;  and  if 
he  continues  in  that  state,  he  must  perish  for  ever.  One 
unpardoned  sin  will  sink  the  soul  to  hell.  What  then  must 
be  the  condition  of  sinners  who  are  pressed  down  with  the 
guilt  of  innumerable  transgressions  ? 

0  reader,  let  me  entreat  you  to  apply  tliis  truth  to  your 
own  case.  You  are,  at  this  moment,  either  in  a  state  of 
condemnation  or  justification.  You  are  now  either  recon- 
ciled to  God,  and  his  adopted  child,  or  his  wrath  abideth 
on  you.  If  the  latter,  how  can  you  be  at  ease  ?  How  can 
you  sleep  quietly  in  your  bed  ?  How  can  you  partake,  vdth 
any  pleasure,  of  your  daily  food  ?  Alas,  your  condition  is 
far  more  dangerous,  far  more  deplorable  than  any  words 
are  capable  of  describing.  And  now,  while  the  moments 
pass,  you  are  approaching  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  lake  of 
fire. 

And  are  you  determined  to  take  no  warning,  to  listen  to 
no  advice  ?  Will  you  shut  your  eyes  against  a  danger  so 
imminent  and  so  dreadful  ?  How  will  you  regret  this  care- 
lessness, when  perhaps  the  day  of  mercy  is  ended.  Those 
words  of  our  Saviour  to  Jerusalem  are  most  touching:  "0 
that  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  in  this  thy  day,  the 


24  JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH. 

things  which  belong  unto  thy  peace ;  but  now  they  are  hid 
from  thine  eyes."  In  a  little  time  your  eternal  destiny 
will  be  immutably  fixed.  There  is  a  limit  beyond  which 
the  call  of  mercy  and  the  strivings  of  the  Spirit  do  not 
reach.  When  once  the  sinner  has  passed  that  awful  boun- 
dary, his  soul  is  completely  lost ;  his  hopes  are  extinguished  ; 
the  blackness  of  darkness  for  ever  lies  before  him.  His  sins 
will  cluster  round  him  like  so  many  ghosts,  to  torment  him. 
The  fire  which  can  never  be  quenched  already  is  enkin- 
dled ;  and  the  worm  which  never  dies  begins  to  gnaw  his 
vitals.  0  wretched  creature  I  how  dearly  didst  thou  buy 
a  little  mirth  and  ease  in  the  world  ;  haw  little  profit  hast 
thou  now  in  all  thy  worldly  riches  and  honors.  They  can- 
not purchase  for  thee  one  moment's  relief,  one  drop  of  water 
for  thy  scorched  tongue. 

"  Knowing  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  we  would  persuade 
men."  If  you  were  now  actually  beyond  the  reach  of 
mercy,  it  would  be  no  kindness  to  disturb  you  ;  but  while 
there  is  life,  there  is  hope.  The  sound  of  mercy  is  still 
heard,  the  door  of  hope  is  open,  salvation  is  yet  attainable. 
But  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  The  least  delay  may  be 
ruinous.  Escape  for  your  life.  Flee  from  the  coming 
wrath ;  seek  safety  in  the  house  of  refuge  ;  press  into  the 
ark ;  flee  to  the  altar,  and  seize  on  its  blood-sprinkled  horns. 
This  very  day  may  be  the  accepted  time,  and  the  day  of 
your  salvation. 


]\o.  394 

CHRISTIAN    LIBEEALITY 

EXPLAINED   AND   ENFORCED. 


EXTRACTED  FROM  "MAMMON,  OR  COVETOUSNESS  THE  SIN  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN 

CHURCH." 

BY   REV.  JOHN   HARRIS. 


SECTION!. 

CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY    EXPLAINED. 

To  assert  that  the  cause  of  christian  liberality  exhi- 
bits no  sign  of  improvement,  would  only  evince  insen- 
sibility to  obvious  facts,  and  ingratitude  to  the  great 
Head  of  the  church.  Even  the  feeling  vvhich  has  called 
for  "  an  essay,  bearing  upon  selfishness  as  it  leads  us  to 
live  to  ourselves,  and  not  unto  God  and  our  fellow- 
men,"  is  to  be  viewed  as  an  indication  that  many  a  chris- 
tian more  than  ever  deplores  that  selfishness.  While 
the  ready  assent  which  is  generally  accorded  to  every 
faithful  appeal  as  to  the  necessity  of  increased  liberality 
to  the  cause  of  God  ;  the  growing  conviction  of  the 
church,  that,  compared  with  what  will  be  done,  we  are 
at  present  doing  nothing  j  the  approbation  with  which 
every  new  expedient  for  augmenting  the  funds  of  bene- 
volence is  hailed  ;  the  streams  Avhich  appear  in  almost 
every  new  channel  of  mercy  as  soon  as  it  is  opened  ; 
and  the  increase  of  funds  which  our  great  benevolent 
institutions  have  almost  annually  to  announce — all  con- 
cur to  show  that  the  church  is  not  only  dissatisfied  with 
its  past  parsimony,  but  is  gradually  awaking  to  the 
claims  of  christian  liberality. 

But,  pleasing  as  the  circumstances  are,  it  must  be 
remembered  that  they  are  little  more  than  indications 
VOL.  X.  31* 


2  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

of  improvement.  All  the  great  defects  in  the  charity  of 
the  christian  church  remain,  with  very  slight  modifica- 
tions. It  is  still  adapted  to  a  former  state  of  compara- 
tive inactivity,  rather  than  to  the  present  period  of  chris- 
tian enterprise.  It  waits  for  impulses  and  appeals.  It 
wants  calculation,  proportion,  and  self-denial.  It  does 
not  keep  pace  with  the  growing  demands  of  the  kingdom 
of  Christ.  It  wants  principle  and  plan.  The  great  current 
of  christian  property  is,  as  yet,  undiverted  from  its 
worldly  channel.  The  scanty  rills  of  charity,  which  at 
present  water  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  and  the  ingenuity 
and  effort  employed  to  bring  them  there,  compared  with 
the  almost  undiminished  tide  of  selfish  expenditure 
which  still  holds  on  its  original  course,  remind  one  of 
the  slender  rivulets  which  the  inhabitants  of  the  East 
raise  from  a  river  by  mechanical  force  to  irrigate  their 
thirsty  gardens ;  the  mighty  current,  meanwhile,  with- 
out exhibiting  any  sensible  diminution  of  its  waters, 
sweeping  on  in  its  ample  and  ancient  bed  to  the  ocean. 
By  unwearied  diligence,  the  art  of  acquiring  money 
has  been  well  nigh  brought  to  perfection.  Nor  can  we 
think  of  the  thousand  ways  in  which  it  is  squandered 
and  dissipated  by  artificial  wants  and  worldly  complian- 
ces, without  deploring  that  the  art  of  wasting  it  by  the 
most  expeditious  methods  should  exhibit,  as  it  does, 
the  finish  and  completeness  of  a  system.  The  art  of 
using  it,  so  as  to  make  it  produce  the  greatest  measure 
of  happiness,  still  remains  to  be  practiced.  This,  indeed, 
the  Gospel  alone  can  teach,  and  has  taught  from  the 
beginning.  In  the  early  age  of  the  christian  church, 
the  heavenly  art  of  embalming  property,  and  making  it 
immortal,  was  not  only  known  but  practised ;  but,  like 
the  process  of  another  embalming,  it  has  now,  for  ages, 
been  practically  lost.  Not  that  its  principles  have  been 
unknowii ;  these  have  always  presented  themselves  on 
the  page  of  truth,  in  lines  of  living  light.    But  though 


EXPLAINED.  d 

benevolence  has  never  been  unknown  as  a  theory,  the 
perverting  influence  of  a  worldly  spirit  has  been  render- 
ing it  more  and  more  impracticable  as  an  art.  So  that 
now,  when  the  obvious  application  of  its  principle  is 
pointed  out,  and  the  necessity  for  carrymg  those  prin- 
ciples into  practice  is  daily  becoming  more  urgent,  we 
begin  to  be  aware  of  the  vast  distance  to  which  the 
church  has  been  drifted  from  the  course  of  its  duty  by 
the  current  of  the  world,  and  how  difficult  it  will  be  to 
effect  a  return. 

As  an  important  preliminary  to  such  a  return,  it 
should  be  our  first  concern  to  repair  to  the  living  ora- 
cles of  God,  and  there,  in  an  humble  devotional  spirit  to 
inquire  his  will  on  Ihe  subject.  This,  of  itself,  would  be 
gaining  an  important  step.  It  would  be  proclaiming  a 
wide  secession  from  the  world  ;  for,  while  the  ungodly 
act  and  feel  as  if  their  property  were  absolutely  and 
irresponsibly  their  own,  we  should  be  thus  acknowledg- 
ing that  we  hold  our  property  from  God,  and  that  we 
feel  ourselves  bound  to  consult  his  will  as  to  the  manner 
of  using  it.  The  unreflecting  christian  who  is  content 
with  appearances  and  professions,  no  doubt  imagines 
that  this  distinction  between  the  church  and  the  world 
exists  already.  Because  he  has  heard,  until  the  sound 
has  become  familiar,  that  all  we  have  and  are  belonofs 
to  God,  and  has  never  heard  the  proposition  contra- 
dicted, he  fancies  that,  on  this  point,  all  is  well.  But  it 
is  precisely  because  christians  generally  have  jorach'ca//y 
repealed  this  principle,  and  trampled  it  under  foot,  that 
the  spirit  of  benevolence  has  almost  been  lost  from  the 
church.  While  the  practical  recognition  of  this  single 
principle,  simple  as  it  is,  familiar  and  admitted  as  it  is 
in  words,  would  of  itself  produce  an  unimagined  change 
in  favor  of  evangelical  charity.  Geologists  tell  us  that 
were  the  poles  of  the  earth  to  be  shifted  but  a  few  de- 
grees, the  ocean  would  rush  towards  the  new  equator, 


4"  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

the  most  solid  parts  of  the  globe  give  way,  and  the  earth 
assume  an  aspect  entirely  new.  The  solitary  principle 
thai  we  hold  our  property  as  subordinate  agents  for  God, 
were  it  only  felt,  embraced,  allowed  to  have  unobstructed 
operation  in  our  practice,  would,  of  itself,  be  sufficient 
to  break  up  the  present  system  of  selfishness,  and  to 
give  an  entirely  new  aspect  to  the  cause  of  benevolence. 

Let  the  christian  reader,  then,  seek  to  have  this  prin- 
ciple wrought  into  his  mind  as  an  ever-present  con- 
viction. Let  the  recollection  of  his  property,  and  the 
idea  of  God  as  its  supreme  owner,  stand  together  in  his 
mind  in  close  and  constant  union.  Let  him  remember 
that  the  supreme  proprietorship  of  his  property  is  in  the 
hands  of  God  as  really  as  the  salvation  of  his  soul  is ; 
and  that  the  will  of  God  is  law  here,  as  much  as  in  the 
more  spiritual  domain  of  faith.  What  would  his  conduct 
be,  had  he  been  left  the  executor  of  that  property  by  a 
wealthy  friend  1  Would  he  not  have  been  frequently 
recurring  to  the  will  of  the  testator,  that  he  might  not 
misapply  the  least  fraction  X  His  supreme  Friend  has 
given  him  the  use  of  certain  property,  accompanying 
the  grant  with  a  specification  of  his  will  concerning  its 
application.  Nothing  but  an  humble,  grateful,  obedient 
heart  is  necessary  in  studying  that  will,  in  order  to  find 
that  it  descends  to  rules,  limitations,  and  directions,  of 
the  most  clear  and  minute  description.  And  it  is  only 
by  keeping  these  requirements  constantly  open  before 
him,  and  returning  to  study  them  daily  in  that  spirit, 
that  the  christian  can  escape  the  danger  of  appropriat- 
ing and  misapplying  that  which  belongs  to  his  Lord  and 
Master. 

In  the  scheme  of  evangelical  charity,  the  principle 
which  actuates  the  giver  is  of  paramount  importance. 
''He  that  giveth,  let  him  do  it  with  simplicity."  The 
Gospel  rejects  alike  the  tax  which  is  reluctantly  paid 
by  fear,  the  bribe  which  is  given  to  silence  importunity, 


EXPLAINED.  0 

the  sacrifice  which  is  offered  to  a  vain  ostentation,  and 
the  price  which  is  intended  to  purchase  a  place  in  the 
divine  favor,  or  as  a  ground  of  justification  before  God. 
The  only  offering  which  it  accepts  is  that  which  origi- 
nates in  a  principle  of  love  and  obedience  to  Christ,  and 
which  hopes  and  asks  for  divine  acceptance  through 
him  alone.  It  takes  the  christian  to  the  cross,  and  there 
it  aims  to  touch  all  that  is  tender  and  generous  in  his 
nature,  while  it  says,  "  Ye  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  that,  though  he  was  rich,  for  your  sakes 
he  became  poor,  that  ye,  through  his  poverty,  might  be 
rich."  And  having  made  its  appeal  at  the  cross,  having 
provided  and  plied  him  with  the  grand  motive  of  re- 
deeming love,  it  will  accept  nothing  which  overlooks 
the  constraining  influence  of  that  principle. 

Familiarity  with  large  sums  of  money  may  lead  a 
person  to  make  benefactions  as  munificent  as  the  heart 
of  charity  could  wish.  Animal  generosity  may  act  the 
donor  with  all  the  promptitude  and  easy  grace  of  charity 
herself.  But  "though  I  bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the 
poor,  . .  .  and  have  not  charity,  it  profiteth  me  nothing." 
The  absence  of  evangelical  love  is  the  want  of  the  in- 
cense which  alone  could  impart  to  the  sacrifice  a  sweet- 
smelling  savor  unto  God.  And  while  its  absence  would 
reduce  the  collected  gifts  of  a  nation  to  penury  itself, 
its  presence  imparts  to  a  widow's  mite  a  value  which 
God  appreciates,  and  by  which  heaven  is  enriched.  It 
turns  "  a  cup  of  cold  water  "  into  a  sacramental  symbol ; 
for  it  is  given  "  in  remembrance  of  Christ."  Suspended 
from  the  throne  of  heaven,  it  transmutes  the  least  gift 
that  may  be  hung  on  it  into  a  jewel  destined  to  augment 
the  glory  of  Him  on  whose  head  are  "  many  crowns." 

That  which  constitutes  the  superiority  of  evangelical 
piety,  as  a  self-propagating  and  diffusive  system,  to 
every  form  of  false  and  heterodox  religion  is,  that  it  has 
for  its  great  actuating  principle  the  love  of  Christ.  This 


b  '  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

is  "the  seed  in  itself;"  the  leaven  which  shall  never 
cease  to  ferment  till  it  has  leavened  the  entire  mass  of 
humanity.  Hence,  every  thing  which  would  obtain  ac- 
ceptance with  God  must  exhibit  marks  of  the  assimilat- 
ing and  sanctifying  power  of  this  principle.  Nay,  every 
thing  which  would  find  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  christian 
himself,  even  his  own  acts  and  offerings  of  charity, 
must  bear  evident  relation  to  Christ,  or  receive  the  con- 
demnation of  his  own  grateful  heart.  In  the  exercise 
of  a  holy  jealousy  for  his  blessed  Lord,  he  is  led  to 
scrutinize  his  motives,  to  trace  his  benevolence  to  its 
source,  to  examine  whether  or  not  it  took  its  rise  at  the 
cross;  and,  if  it  did  not,  he  finds  cause  for  penitence 
and  humiliation  before  God.  Thus,  while  false  religion 
makes  his  alms-deeds  a  substitute  for  piety,  the  Gospel 
heightens  benevolence  into  one  of  the  most  spiritual 
and  improving  duties  the  christian  can  perform.  For, 
by  imbuing  his  heart  with  the  love  of  God,  it  enables 
him  to  taste  the  godlike  enjoyment  of  doing  good  ;  and, 
by  teaching  him  to  refer  all  his  acts  of  benevolence  to 
Christ,  to  perform  them  as  expressions  of  gratitude  to 
him,  to  hope  for  their  acceptance  through  him,  and  to 
pray  that  they  may  tend  to  his  glory,  it  keeps  him  near 
to  the  cross,  in  an  atmosphere  of  spiritual  and  elevated 
piety.  And  when  once  he  has  become  native  to  the 
element,  when  the  expansive,  delightful,  irresistible 
power  of  the  Saviour's  grace  has  become  his  ruling  mo- 
tive, he  would  feel  an  inferior  principle  to  be  little  less 
than  degradation  and  bondage.  He  accounts  the  cost- 
liest sacrifice  he  can  offer  as  poor ;  resents  the  limits 
which  a  cold  and  calculating  selfishness  would  impose 
on  his  offerings,  as  chains  and  fetters  ;  and  if  called  to 
pour  forth  his  blood  as  a  libation  on  the  altar  of  christian 
sacrifice,  he  would  feel  that  he  had  rendered  an  ample 
explanation  of  his  conduct,  by  saying,  with  the  apostle, 
"  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us." 


EXPLAINED. 


In  order  that  our  benevolence  may  become  a  valuable 
habit,  it  must  be  provided  with  regular  resources.  No- 
thing good  or  great  can  be  effected  without  plan.  In 
their  own  worldly  business,  men  perceive  the  impor- 
tance of  method  j  and,  if  they  would  render  their  libe- 
rality efficient,  they  must  adopt  a  system  for  that  also. 
On  this  subject  the  Gospel  itself  prescribes — "  Upon  the 
first  day  of  the  week,  let  every  one  of  you  lay  by  him 
in  store  as  God  hath  prospered  him,  that  there  be  no 
gatherings  when  I  come."  "  By  which,"  saith  Paley, 
'^I  understand  St.  Paul  to  recommend  what  is  the  very 
thing  wanting  with  most  men,  the  being  charitable  upon 
a  plan;  that  is,  upon  a  deliberate  comparison  of  our 
fortunes  with  the  reasonable  expenses  and  expectations 
of  our  families,  to  compute  what  we  can  spare,  and  to 
lay  by  so  much  for  charitable  purposes." 

To  take  indeed  a  weekly  account  how  God  hath  pros- 
pered us,  is  not,  in  all  cases,  possible  j  but  the  spirit  of 
the  direction  would  be  equally  satisfied,  if,  on  taking  the 
account  at  other  stated  times,  we  only  lay  by  for  God  as 
he  hath  prospered  us.  Owing  to  the  want  of  a  plan 
like  this,  the  cause  of  Christ  is  often  an  unwelcome 
and  an  unsuccessful  applicant ;  selfishness,  which  has 
always  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  be  the  first  claim- 
ant, squanders  in  superfluities  what  conscience  would 
have  devoted  to  Godj  and  many,  it  is  to  be  feared,  from 
not  having  wherewith  to  answer  the  calls  and  impulses 
of  charity  as  they  arose  in  the  heart,  have  at  length  lost 
the  very  disposition  to  do  good.  While  the  advantages 
arising  from  the  adoption  of  such  an  arrangement  are 
numerous,  we  are  under  less  temptation  to  withhold  our 
charity ;  our  duty  is  made  more  convenient  by  rendering 
it  thus  in  easy  installments  ;  our  love  to  Christ  is  more 
gratified  by  being  able  to  present  him  in  the  end  with  a 
larger  offering  ;  the  hand  of  God  is  regularly  recognized 
in  our  worldly  affairs  j    his  presence  is  invited,  so  to 


8  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

speak,  into  the  very  heart  of  our  prosperity,  whence 
the  wotM  is  most  anxious  to  exclude  him,  invited  to 
audit  the  account  of  our  gains  j  our  offerings  are  pre- 
sented with  cheerfulness,  because  they  come  from  a 
fund  designed  expressly  to  no  other  end  than  charity ; 
and  the  cause  of  benevolence,  no  longer  a  dependant 
or  precarious  charity,  is  welcomed  and  honored  as  an 
authorized  claimant,  a  divine  creditor,  while  what  we 
retain  for  our  own  use  is  divinely  blessed  by  the  dedi- 
cation of  the  rest  to  God. 

Nothing  that  is  good  or  great,  we  repeat,  can  be  ef- 
fected without  plan.  Business,  to  be  successful,  must 
be  conducted  on  system  ;  and  why  should  not  the  book 
which  records  the  occasional  and  the  regular  contribu- 
tions of  charity  be  kept  and  inspected  as  carefully  as 
the  ledger  of  trade  1  Covetousness  plans  for  selfish 
purposes ;  and  why  should  not  benevolence  counter- 
plan,  and  organize  its  resources  for  objects  of  divine 
philanthropy  1  Political  economy  plans  for  national  pur- 
poses ;  and  why  should  there  not  be  an  ecclesiastical 
economy  to  systematize  its  resources  of  that  kingdom 
which  is  not  of  this  world  1  We  desire  not  a  revival 
of  sumptuary  laws  to  restrain  extravagance  in  diet  and 
dress,  but  a  tax  self-levied  on  all  the  luxuries  and  in- 
dulgencies  of  life.  We  ask  not  for  an  inquisitorial 
Koman  census^  but  for  a  conscientious  assessment  of  all 
the  property  of  the  christian  church,  so  scrupulously 
made  and  regularly  repeated,  that,  like  that  ancient  re- 
public, we  may  have  accurate  returns,  from  time  to 
time,  of  all  the  statistics  of  the  christian  empire,  and 
may  know  our  resources  for  war  with  the  kingdom  of 
darkness. 

But  what  proportion  of  our  income  ought  we  to  devote 
to  charitable  usesl  If  christian  love  be  permitted  to 
answer  this  question,  and  assign  the  amount,  there  is 
no  reason  to  fear  a  too  scanty  allowance.     On  the  other 


EXPLAINED.  9 

hand,  if  selfishness  be  suffered  to  decide,  there  is  ground 
to  fear  that  even  an  inspired  reply,  could  such  be  ob- 
tained, would  be  heard  only  to  be  overruled.  Besides 
which,  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  in  harmony  with  its  great 
design  of  establishing  a  reign  of  love,  leaves  its  follow- 
ers to  assess  themselves.  It  puts  into  their  hands,  in- 
deed, a  claim  upon  their  property,  but  leaves  the  ques- 
tion, how  much  ?  to  be  determined  by  themselves.  In 
assisting  them  to  fill  up  the  blank  with  the  proper  as- 
sessment, the  only  step  which  it  takes  is  to  point  them 
to  the  cross  of  Christ ;  and,  while  their  eye  is  fixed 
there  in  admiring  love,  to  say,  ^'  How  much  o\\  est  thou 
unto  thy  Lord  1"  "Freely  ye  have  received,  freely 
give." 

It  must  be  quite  unnecessary  to  remind  the  christian, 
that  a  principle  of  justice  to  man  must  be  laid  as  the 
basis  of  all  our  calculations  on  this  subject.  "Fori 
the  Lord  love  judgment,  I  hate  robbery  for  burnt  offer- 
ing." To  present  him  with  that  which  his  own  laws 
of  justice  would  assign  to  another,  is  to  overlook  the 
claims  of  even  ordinary  honesty,  and  to  make  him  the 
patron  of  unrighteousness.  But,  while  the  worldling 
looks  on  justice  as  the  only  claimant  on  his  property, 
and  concludes  that  when  that  is  satisfied,  he  may  war- 
rantably  sacrifice  the  whole  remainder  to  himself,  the 
christian  views  it  only  as  a  preparation  for  sacrificing 
to  God. 

It  is  observable  that  Abraham  and  Jacob,  on  particu- 
lar occasions,  voluntarily  devoted  to  God- -what  after- 
wards became  a  Divine  law  for  the  Jewish  nation — a 
tenth  of  their  property.  Without  implying  that  their 
example  has  any  obligation  on  us,  we  may  venture  to 
say,  that  one  tenth  of  our  whole  income  is  an  approved 
proportion  for  charity,  for  those  who,  with  so  doing,  are 
able  to  support  themselves  and  families.  For  the  more 
opulent,  and  especially  for  those  who  have  no  families, 
VOL.  X.  32 


10  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

a  larger  proportion  would  be  equally  easy.  For  some, 
one-half  would  be  too  little  ;  while,  for  others,  a  twen- 
tieth, or  even  a  fiftieth  would  require  the  nicest  frugali- 
ty and  care.  Indeed,  of  many  among  the  poor  it  may 
be  said,  that  if  they  give  any  things  they  give  their 
share — they  cast  in  more  than  all  their  brethren. 

But,  in  determining  the  proportion  to  be  made  sacred 
to  God,  the  christian  would  surely  rather  exceed  than 
fall  short  of  the  exact  amount.  With  whom  is  he  stipu- 
lating 1  i^or  whom  is  he  preparing  the  offering '^  Well 
may  the  recollection  put  every  covetous  thought  to  in- 
stant flight,  tinging  his  cheek  with  shame  at  the  bare 
possibility  of  ingratitude,  and  impelling  him  to  lay  his 
all  at  the  feet  of  Christ.  Only  let  him  think  of  the  great 
love  wherewith  Christ  hath  loved  him  ;  only  let  him 
pass  by  the  cross  on  his  way  to  the  altar  of  oblation, 
and  his  richest  offering  will  appear  totally  unworthy  of 
Divine  acceptance.  When  Christ  is  the  object  to  be 
honored,  the  affection  of  the  pardoned  penitent  cannot 
slop  to  calculate  the  value  of  its  alabaster  box  of  pre- 
cious ointment — that  is  an  act  to  which  only  a  Judas 
can  stoop — its  chief  and  sole  regret  is,  that  the  unction 
has  not  a  richer  perfume,  and  a  higher  value.  When  a 
Zaccheus  finds  himself  standing,  a  sinner  saved  by 
grace,  in  the  presence  of  the  Being  who  has  saved  him, 
he  exclaims,  "  Behold,  Lord,  the  half  of  my  goods  I 
give  to  the  poor  ;  and  if  I  have  wronged  any  man  by 
false  accusation,  I  restore  unto  him  four-fold."  Cove- 
tousness,  a  moment  before,  was  enthroned  in  his  heart, 
but  now  it  is  beneath  his  feet.  A  moment  ago  wealth 
was  his  idol ;  but  now  its  only  value  consists  in  furnish- 
ing him  with  an  offering  of  love  to  Christ.  What  things 
were  gain  to  him^  those  he  counted  loss  for  Christ. 

And  as  the  great  principle  of  love  to  Christ  will  not 
allow  the  more  opulent  to  give  scantily,  so  neither  will 
it  permit  the  poorest  to  come  before  him  empty.     It  was 


EXPLAINED.  11 

one  of  the  Divine  enactments  even  of  the  legal  dis- 
pensation— JVone  shall  come  before  me  empty.  But  that 
which  was  matter  of  law  with  the  Israelite,  the  chris- 
tian will  seize  as  a  golden  opportunity  for  evincing  his 
love  to  Christ ;  and  will  bring,  though  it  be  only  a  grain 
of  incense  for  an  offerinor,  or  a  leaf  for  that  wreath  of 
praise  and  honor  which  the  church  delights  to  lay  ai 
the  feet  of  Christ.  Whatever  Scripture  example  others 
may  profess  to  copy,  he  will  select  the  example  of  the 
benevolent  widow ;  and,  while  others  content  them- 
selves with  only  admiring  it,  he  w^ill  often  reflect  on  its 
imitableness.  Nor  will  the  language  of  the  apostle  be 
ever  heard  by  him  but  as  an  address  to  himself,  "  Let 
him  labor,  working  with  his  hands  the  thing  which  is 
good,  that  he  may  have  to  give  to  him  that  needeth." 
"  These  hands  have  ministered  unto  my  necessities,  and 
to  them  that  were  with  me.  _  have  showed  you  all 
things,  how  that  so  laboring  ye  ought  to  support  the 
weak,  and  to  remember  the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus, 
how  he  said,  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive." 
Agreeably  with  these  sentiments,  the  man  who,  at  one 
time,  imagined  that  his  poverty  quite  exempted  him 
from  the  obligations  of  charity,  and  only  rendered  him 
an  object  of  it,  is  no  sooner  made  the  partaker  of  grace, 
than  he  feels  himself  impelled  to  place  some  offering  on 
the  altar  of  christian  benevolence  ;  and,  with  the  ready 
eye  and  hand  of  affection,  he  soon  detects,  for  this  end, 
some  small  superfluity  which  can  be  retrenched,  or 
some  leisure  time  which  can  be  profitably  employed. 
And  when  his  mite-like  offering,  the  fruit  of  hard  self- 
denial,  or  of  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  is  presented,  nothing 
could  inflict  on  his  grateful  heart  a  deeper  wound  than 
to  see  that  offering  rejected  on  the  ground  of  its  com- 
parative insignificance,  or  of  his  supposed  inability  to 
give  it.  It  is  the  offering  of  a  sinner's  gratitude  to  a 
Saviour's  love,  and  heaven  rejoices  over  the  oblation. 


12  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

A  well-digested  scheme  of  charity  will  be  conside- 
rate in  the  selection  of  its  objects.  The  benevolence 
which  has  not  prudence  for  its  almoner,  may  create  the 
evils  which  it  meant  to  destroy. 

If  there  be  any  danger  in  this  respect,  in  the  present 
day,  it  does  not  lie  so  much  in  the  choice  of  wrong 
objects,  as  in  the  neglect  of  some  right  ones.  The 
principles  of  benevolent  institutions  are  now  so  well 
understood  ;  every  new  candidate  for  patronage  is  so 
open  to  inspection,  and  the  streams  of  charity  so  steadi- 
ly watched  from  their  rise  to  the  point  of  their  destina- 
tion, that  there  is  little  more  than  the  bare  possibility 
of  any  benevolent  institution  existing  long  in  a  state  of 
abuse,  or  so  as  to  generate  more  evil  than  good.  What- 
ever danger  now  exists,  arises  from  the  rapid  multipli- 
cation of  new  objects,  and  the  consequent  liability  of 
the  old  ones  to  desertion  ;  and  still  more,  perhaps,  from 
the  liability  of  those  minor  objects  which  relate  exclu- 
sively to  the  bodily  welfare  of  man,  being  eclipsed  by 
the  surpassing  grandeur  and  magnitude  of  such  as  re- 
late to  the  infinite  and  the  eternal. 

If,  fifty  years  ago,  a  patron  of  the  benevolent  institu- 
tions of  that  day  could  have  been  foretold  of  the  number, 
the  magnitude,  and  the  revenues  of  the  great  evangelical 
societies  which  at  present  adorn  our  land,  he  might 
surely  have  been  excused  for  fearing  that  the  objects 
of  his  regard  would,  in  consequence,  be  displaced  and 
forgotten.  But  the  event  has  shown  that  his  fears  would 
have  been  unfounded.  Experience  demonstrates,  that 
the  heart  which  responds  to  the  cries  of  a  world  perish- 
ing through  lack  of  knowledge,  is  the  heart  which  most 
readily  thrills  at  the  cry  of  bodily  want  j  that  those  who 
care  most  for  the  souls  of  the  heathen,  are  among  the 
most  active  agents  of  patriotic  and  local  charities  ;  that 
genuine  christian  charity,  while  it  leaves  no  object  un- 
attempted  on  account  of  its  vastness,  overlooks  none  on 


EXPLAINED.  13 

account  of  its  minuteness.  Copying,  in  this  respect,  the 
example  of  Him,  who,  in  his  way  to  the  cross  to  save  a 
world,  often  stood  still  to  give  health  to  the  sick,  and  to 
wipe  away  the  tears  of  the  mourner ;  sowing,  at  each 
step,  the  seeds  of  those  various  institutions  of  mercy 
which  are  still  springing  up  in  his  church ;  and  who, 
while  suspended  on  the  cross,  in  the  crisis  of  human 
redemption,  still  thought  of  his  filial  relation,  and  tender- 
ly provided  for  a  mother's  comfort. 

But  the  limited  resources  of  the  christian  philanthro- 
pist, compared  with  the  number  and  diversity  of  the  ob- 
jects soliciting  his  aid,  render  selection  indispensably 
necessary.  On  the  one  hand,  he  must  not  confine  his 
regards  to  objects  purely  religious,  though  of  the  loft- 
iest and  most  comprehensive  order,  to  the  neglect  of 
that  charity  which  draws  out  its  soul  to  the  hungry,  and 
which  visits  the  fatherless  and  widow  in  their  affliction  ; 
and,  on  the  other,  he  must  not  limit  his  attentions  to  the 
wants  of  the  life  that  now  is,  and  remain  an  uninterested 
spectator  of  the  efforts  which  are  made  around  him  to 
save  a  world  from  perdition.  The  two  classes  of  objects 
should  be  combined  in  his  regards.  By  descending  to 
the  one  class,  he  will  be  keeping  his  benevolent  feelings 
in  a  healthy,  active,  vigorous  state  ;  and,  by  ascending 
to  the  other,  he  will  be  giving  them  scope  and  expan- 
sion, diffusing  and  multiplying  them  over  the  whole  field 
of  mercy.  By  a  wise  distribution  of  his  means  he  may 
connect  himself  with  all  the  objects  of  beneficence,  from 
the  casual  relief  of  the  mendicant,  to  the  combined,  sys- 
tematic, and  mighty  project  of  the  christian  church  to 
make  the  Bible  the  book  of  the  world.  And  as  he  marks 
the  graduated  scale  of  christian  charities,  which  stands 
between  these  two  extremes,  he  will  conscientiously 
consider  which  are  the  charities  that  call  for  his  espe- 
cial aid,  and  the  proportion  of  support  which  each 
demands. 

VOL.  x.  32* 


14  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

But  who  does  not  feel  that  the  era  of  effective  chris- 
tian benevolence  has  yet  to  commence  1  Let  him  sketch 
the  most  simple  scheme  of  benevolence  which  the  Gos- 
pel can  approve,  and  he  will  perceive,  at  every  step, 
that  he  is  writing  the  condemnation  of  the  church. 
Compared  with  the  time,  indeed,  when  next  to  nothing 
was  contributed  to  the  cause  of  Christ,  we  may  now  be 
said  to  give  much  ;  but  compared  with  what  ought  to  be, 
and  with  what  we  are  persuaded  will  be,  consecrated  to 
God,  we  are  still  contributing  next  to  nothing.  The 
sentiment  of  the  church  on  the  subject  of  property,  is, 
as  yet,  very  little  elevated  above  that  of  the  world ; 
deep-rooted  worldly  notions  have  yet  to  be  eradicated ; 
and  the  right  use  of  wealth,  in  its  relation  to  the  cause 
of  Christ,  to  be  taught  and  enforced  as  an  essential 
branch  of  christian  practice.  The  great  lesson  taught 
by  our  Lord's  voluntary  selection  of  a  state  of  poverty, 
is  yet  to  be  fully  understood ;  the  application  of  many 
plain  passages  of  Scripture  to  be  made  ;  doctrines,  start- 
ling to  selfishness,  to  become  familiar  and  welcome ; 
sentiments,  already  familiar,  to  be  enlarged  and  practi- 
cally applied  5  the  word  benevolence  itself  to  be  diffe- 
rently understood ;  the  demon  of  covetousness  to  be 
cast  out  of  the  church,  and  the  whole  economy  of  be- 
nevolence to  be  revised. 

And  who,  with  the  word  of  God  in  his  hand,  but  must 
feel  that  an  era  of  enlarged  christian  liberality  is  hasten- 
ing on  %  Prophecy  is  full  of  it.  As  often  almost  as  she 
opens  her  lips  on  the  subject  of  Messiah's  reign,  the 
consecration  of  the  world's  wealth  forms  part  of  her 
song.  "  To  him  shall  be  given  of  the  gold  of  Sheba." 
"  The  merchandise  of  Tyre  shall  be  holiness  to  the 
Lord  ;  it  shall  not  be  treasured  nor  laid  up."  "  Surely 
the  isles  shall  wait  for  me,  and  the  ships  of  Tarshish 
first,  to  bring  thy  sons  from  far,  their  silver  and  their 
gold  with  them,  unto  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God." 


EXPLAINED.  15 

''Kings  shall  bring  presents  unto  him;''  "they  shall 
bring  gold  and  incense  ;"  and  into  his  kingdom  "  they 
shall  bring  the  glory  and  honor  of  the  nations."  Wealth, 
which  for  so  many  ages  had  robbed  him  of  his  glory, 
and  which  in  so  many  idolatrous  forms  had  been  erected 
in  his  stead,  shall  be  brought  to  his  altar,  and  employed 
as  the  fuel  of  a  sacrifice  in  which  the  heart  shall  ascend 
as  incense  before  him.  It  will  then  be  felt  that  the 
highest  use  to  which  wealth  can  be  applied,  is  to  em- 
ploy it  for  God ;  that  this  is  the  only  way  to  dignify  that 
which  is  intrinsically  mean ;  to  turn  that  which  is  per- 
ishing into  unfading  crowns  and  imperishable  wealth. 
As  if  the  image  and  superscription  of  Christ  instead  of 
Caesar — as  if  the  hallowed  impress  of  the  cross  itself 
were  visible  on  ail  the  currency  of  earth,  his  people  shall 
look  on  all  their  wealth  as  the  property  of  Christ,  and 
be  constantly  meditating  the  means  of  employing  it 
most  advantageously  for  his  glory.  In  wedding  his 
church,  it  shall  then  be  felt  that  he  wedded  her  wealth 
also ;  and,  bringing  it  forth,  and  placing  it  at  his  feet  as 
a  part  of  her  poor  unworthy  dowry,  she  shall  Avish  that, 
for  his  sake,  it  had  been  ten  thousand  times  ten  thou- 
sand more. 

Now,  the  only  distinction  is  between  him  that  gives 
a  little,  and  him  that  gives  nothing  ;  then  a  new  classi- 
fication will  have  obtained.  There  will  be  no  one  in  the 
church  who  gives  nothing ;  his  place  will  be  occupied 
by  him  who  only  gives  little — by  which  will  be  meant 
him  who,  whatever  the  amount  of  his  gift  may  be,  givej> 
only  from  his  superfluity ;  while  the  honorable  title  of 
the  benevolent  will  be  reserved  for  such  only  as  deny 
themselves  in  order  that  they  may  give  more.  Self- 
denial,  if  not  synonymous  with  benevolence,  will  then 
be  considered  an  essential  part  of  it.  He  who  gives 
nothing,  will  be  looked  on  as  an  avowed  enemy  to  the 
cause  of  Christ ;  he  who  only  gives  a  little  from  his  su- 


16  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

perfluity  will  be  considered  covetous ;  and  he  only  who 
adds  to  his  superfluity  the  precious  savings  of  self-denial 
besides,  will  be  honored  as  truly  charitable. 

The  christian  will  then  look  on  himself  in  the  light 
of  a  channel  between  God  and  his  fellow-creatures — a 
channel  prepared  expressly  for  receiving  and  conveying 
the  overflowings  of  the  fountain  of  goodness  to  those 
around  him  ;  and,  accordingly,  he  will  be  "  ready  to  dis- 
tribute, willing  to  communicate."  Not  content  with  the 
slender  supplies  of  his  own  property,  he  will  seek  to 
excite  the  liberality  of  others  ;  to  become  their  almoner  j 
to  swell  the  streams  of  his  own  charity  by  the  contri- 
butions of  others.  And  thus  he  will  at  once  be  the 
means  of  keeping  the  benevolence  of  his  brethren  in 
activity  j  of  bringing  greater  glory  to  God,  and  of  doing 
greater  good  to  the  world. 

The  christian  parent  will  not  then  be  content  with 
teaching  his  children  the  art  of  getting  money  most 
easily  and  respectably,  or  of  spending  it  most  advan- 
tageously to  themselves ;  he  will  train  them  to  habits 
of  benevolence  5  impress  them  early  with  "  the  value 
of  money  "  for  the  cause  of  Christ  5  show  them,  that  in 
its  subserviency  to  that  cause  consists  its  chief  value  j 
that  they  should  labor  with  their  hands  rather  than  be 
destitute  of  the  means  of  giving.  He  will  make  it  an 
indispensable  object  of  their  education  to  render  them 
proficients  in  the  art  of  employing  their  substance  to 
the  glory  of  God. 

As  far  as  his  means  enable  him,  he  will  pray  only  to 
give,  and  give  only  to  pray.  His  every  prayer  will  con- 
tain a  petition  for  a  more  abundant  outpouring  of  the 
spirit  of  christian  liberality  and  dedication  5  and  the 
very  feeling  which  impelled  him  to  utter  the  petition, 
shall  impel  him,  when  he  rises  from  his  knees,  to  devise 
liberal  things.  And  then,  having  gratified  the  divine  im- 
pulse to  the  utmost  extent  of  his  means,  he  will  hasten 


EXPLAINED.  *  17 

to  unload  his  grateful  heart  before  God,  and  to  say, 
"  Who  am  I,  that  I  should  be  able  to  offer  so  willingly 
after  this  sort  1  for  all  things  come  of  thee,  and  of  thine 
own  have  we  given  thee."  Nay,  could  he  command  and 
set  in  motion  all  the  benevolent  agencies  in  the  uni- 
verse, the  same  godlike  motive  which  led  him  to  do  sOj 
would  then  impel  him  to  the  throne  of  God  to  obtain  his 
efficacious  blessing  upon  the  whole.  Having  put  all 
human  agency  in  requisition,  he  w^ould  labor  and  wrestle 
in  prayer,  to  engage  the  infinite  love  and  power  of  God. 

He  will  receive  every  accredited  applicant  for  the 
cause  of  Christ,  as  a  messenger  deputed  from  Christ 
himself.  And,  as  if  his  blessed  Lord  were  standing  be- 
fore him,  and  saying,  "  I  am  hungry,  will  you  not  feed 
me  \  I  am  thirsty,  will  you  not  give  me  drink  %  I 
am  a  stranger,  will  you  not  take  me  in  \  My  cause 
is  languishing  for  want  of  support,  will  you  not  aid 
it  V  He  will  hasten  to  bring  forth  his  all,  and  say, 
"  O  Lord  my  God,  ail  this  store  cometh  of  thine  hand, 
and  is  all  thine  own."  In  doing  this,  indeed,  he  would 
only  be  copying  the  example  of  the  benevolent  widow  ; 
but  though  that  example  received  the  sanction  of  Christ, 
and  as  such  w^as  intended  to  be  more  than  admired  by 
his  church,  yet  who  could  imitate  it  at  present,  without 
incurring,  not  from  the  w^orld  only,  but  from  the  great 
majority  of  christian  professors  also,  the  blame  of  great 
improvidence  \  But,  then,  her  conduct  shall  be  regarded 
as  exemplary  ;  and  the  Saviour  himself  will  undertake 
the  defence  of  her  imitators,  and  say,  "  They  loved 
much,  for  they  have  much  forgiven." 

Now,  the  christian  professor  too  commonly  allows 
his  regular  contribution  to  check  his  liberality,  to  pre- 
vent his  giving  more  than  the  stipulated  sum,  though 
there  are  times  when  his  benevolent  impulses  would 
prompt  him  to  exceed  that  sum ;  then  he  will  regard 
his  subscription  only  as  a  pledge  that  he  will  not  give 


18  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

less,  but  as  leaving  his  liberality  open  to  all  the  impulses 
of  an  unrestricted  benevolence.  Now,  he  is  too  often 
disposed  to  shun  the  applications  for  charity  j  and  if  he 
is  overlooked  and  passed  by,  to  view  it  as  a  fortunate 
escape ;  but  then  he  will  do  good  as  he  hath  opportunity 
— creating  the  opportunity  which  he  cannot  find  already 
made  to  his  hands.  Now,  his  ability  exceeds  his  incli- 
nation ;  but  then  his  inclination  will  be  greater  than  his 
ability  ;  like  the  Macedonian  christians,  of  whom  the 
apostle  testifies,  "  I  bear  them  record,  that  to  their 
power,  yea,  and  beyond  their  power,  they  were  willing 
of  themselves."  Instead  of  being  charitable  only  on 
comparative  distraint,  he  will  often  anticipate  applica- 
tion, and  surprise  the  agents  of  beneficence  by  unex- 
pected gifts  ;  thus  strengthening  their  faith  in  God,  and 
inciting  them  to  enlarge  their  designs  for  the  kingdom 
of  Christ :  like  the  same  believers,  of  whom  the  apostle 
records,  that,  instead  of  needing  to  be  solicited,  they 
entreated  him  to  accept  their  contributions — '^  praying 
us  with  much  entreaty  to  accept  their  gift."  Like  the 
happy  parent  of  a  happy  family,  he  will  hail  every  new- 
born claim  on  his  resources,  and  cheerfully  deny  him- 
self in  order  to  support  it.  And  instead  of  giving,  as  he 
now  does,  as  scantily  as  if  he  only  aimed  to  keep  the 
christian  cause  from  famishing,  he  will  then  act  on  the 
persuasion  that  his  own  enjoyment  is  identified  Avith  its 
growth  and  prosperity. 

And  let  it  not  be  supposed  that,  during  that  happy 
period,  it  will  be  necessary  to  the  support  of  the  chris- 
tian interest,  that  its  friends  should  live  in  a  state  of 
comfortless  self-denial.  The  prevalence  of  the  benevo- 
lent spirit  will  render  this  superfluous.  When  the 
thousand  drains  of  selfishness  are  cut  off,  the  cause  of 
Christ  will  easily  find  an  abundance  from  his  friends, 
and  will  leave  an  abundance  to  them  all.  When  every 
man  brings  his  all  to  Christ,  every  man  will   be  able  to 


EXPLAINED.  19 

take  away  with  him  again  an  ample  supply  for  his  most 
comfortable  subsistence.  When  every  fresh  convert  to 
Christ  becomes  a  willing  supporter  of  his  interest,  the 
accession  of  numbers  will  increase  its  supplies  more 
rapidly  than  its  wants. 

0,  happy  period  !  Holiness  to  the  Lord  shall  be  writ- 
ten, not  only  on  common  things,  but  on  those  which 
men  have  been  accustomed  most  jealously  to  withhold 
from  God,  and  to  consider  their  own.  Even  the  mines 
of  the  earth  shall,  in  a  sense,  be  ceded  to  Christ ;  ''  the 
God  of  the  whole  earth  shall  he  be  called ;"  and  "  every 
one  shall  submit  themselves  unto  him  with  pieces  of 
silver."  He  shall  be  considered  the  wise  man,  not  who 
keeps  most,  but  who  gives  most  to  God ;  and  the  hap- 
piness of  bestowing  shall  be  rated  above  the  pleasure  of 
acquiring.  Happy  period!  when  men,  instead  of  mak- 
ing gold  their  god,  shall  make  God  their  gold :  and 
when  the  principles  of  benevolence  shall  be  looked  on 
as  a  science  taught  from  heaven,  the  practice  of  which 
is  necessary  to  conduct  them  to  heaven.  The  living 
law  of  benevolence  written  in  the  heart  will  operate 
more  powerfully  than  all  the  sumptuary  laws  which  were 
ever  enacted  to  restrain  the  extravagance  of  society. 
The  cause  of  Christ  will  be  viewed  as  the  only  safe  re- 
pository of  wealth  ;  as  the  great  interest  in  which  the 
affluent  will  invest  their  abundance,  and  in  Avhich  the 
poor  will  deposit  their  mite,  assured  that  it  will  thus 
augment  to  a  treasure  exceeding  their  powers  of  com- 
putation. And  wealth,  the  pernicious  influence  of  which 
some  of  the  wisest  of  men  have  feared  so  much  that 
they  have  prohibited  the  use  of  it  by  law — wealth,  the 
great  embroiler  and  corrupter  of  the  world,  will  be  em- 
ployed as  one  of  the  leading  means  of  restoring  man- 
kind to  union  and  happiness ;  and  thus  Christ  will 
triumph  over  the  enemy  in  its  own  home  and  with  its 
own  weapons. 


20  CHRISTIAiN    LIBERALITY 


SECTION    II. 


CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY    ENFORCED. 

And  why  should  the  delightful  period  to  which  we 
have  adverted,  when  the  Gospel  theory  of  christian  be- 
nevolence shall  be  realized,  be  deemed  remote  1  The 
duties  of  that  period  are  the  duties  of  every  period  j 
and,  therefore,  of  the  present.  The  obligations  which 
will  be  binding  then,  are  binding  at  this  moment.  No 
new  incitements  to  benevolence  will  be  furnished  from 
heaven.  The  great  considerations  with  which  the  Gos- 
pel has  long  since  made  us  familiar,  are  the  identical 
motives  which  will  then  reign  and  triumph.  Remote, 
therefore,  as  that  era  may  be  to  the  eye  of  the  indolent 
and  the  selfish,  the  consistent  believer  will  not  think  of 
waiting  for  its  arrival  before  he  begins  its  duties  ;  he 
will  feel  that  those  duties  are  all  present  and  urgent. 
May  a  review  of  the  tender  and  weighty  considerations 
by  which  they  are  enforced  fill  him  with  generous  and 
grateful  purposes,  such  as  he  never  felt  before ;  and 
may  God,  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  Spirit  of  love  and  grace, 
condescend  to  breathe  on  him  the  breath  ofa  new  life, 
that  he  may  henceforth  live  only  to  carry  those  purpo- 
ses into  eifect  to  the  glory  of  Christ  his  Redeemer ! 

In  every  question  of  duty,  your  first  inquiry,  christian 
reader,  will  naturally  respect  the  will  of  God.  Before 
listening  to  any  other  consideration,  you  will  lift  up  an 
imploring  eye,  and  say,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  ihou  have  me 
to  do  V  Now  there  is  no  subject  on  which  God  has 
more  clearly  or  fully  revealed  his  will  tj^ian  on  the  duty 
of  christian  liberality. 

Think  of  the  right  which  he  has  iii  nil  you  possess. 
There  is  a  sense  in  which  no  man  can  be   said  to  pos- 


ENFORCED.  21 

sess  an  exclusive  and  irresponsible  right  in  property, 
even  in  relation  to  his  fellow-creatures.  The  land  which 
he  calls  his  own^  is  still  guarded  and  watched  over  by 
a  public  law  which  would  hold  him  responsible  for  its 
destruction.  But  if  man  thus  claims  a  common  inte 
rest  in  the  most  independent  description  of  property, 
how  much  more  does  God  hold  a  right  in  your  posses- 
sions ]  He  created  them  at  first ;  and  hence  he  has  an 
original  and  supreme  property  in  them.  The  world  is 
his,  and  the  fullness  thereof.  He  continues  them  in 
existence  every  moment;  and  is  thus  every  moment 
asserting  afresh  his  original  right,  and  establishing  a 
new  title  to  dominion  over  them.  You  have  not  brought 
into  existence  a  single  mite  ;  all  that  you  have  done  is 
to  collect  together  what  he  had  made  ready  to  your 
hands.  And  whence  did  you  derive  the  skill  and  ability 
to  do  this  1  '^  Thou  must  remember  the  Lord  thy  God, 
for  it  is  he  that  giveth  thee  power  to  get  Avealth." 
Hence  he  cautions  you  against  the  sin  of  saying  in  your 
heart,  '^  My  power,  and  the  might  of  mine  own  hand, 
hath  gotten  me  this  wealth,"  lest  you  should  fall  into 
the  consequent  sin  of  forgetting  that  he  is  still  the  su- 
preme proprietor  of  all  you  possess.  And  hence,  too, 
he  solemnly  reminds  you  that  your  enjoyments  are  his 
g//?5,  only  in  the  sense  that  you  had  nothing  wherewith 
^  to  purchase  them,  and  not  in  the  sense  that  he  has  giv- 
en away  his  right  in  them;  that  they  are  deposited  with 
you  as  his  steward,  not  alienated  from  him  and  vested 
in  you  as  their  master ;  that  both  they  and  you  are  his, 
to  do  with  as  seemeth  good  in  his  sight. 

The  moment  you  lose  sight,  therefore,  of  his  abso- 
lute right  to  all  you  possess,  you  are  embezzling  your 
Lord's  property,  and  realizing  the  character  of  the  un- 
just steward.  You  are  provoking  God  to  resume  his 
own,  and  to  transfer  it  to  more  faithful  hands  ;  whereas 
he  looks  to  you  to  assert  his  dominion  in  the  midst  of 
VOL.  X.  33 


22  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

an  ungrateful  and  rebellious  world.  The  purpose  for 
which -he  created  you  at  first,  and  for  which  he  has 
created  you  anew  in  Christ  Jesus,  is,  that  you  might 
show  forth  his  praise  before  a  world  laboring  to  forget 
him ;  that  while  they  are  sullenly  and  impiously  appro- 
priating every  thing  to  themselves,  as  if  he  had  ceased 
to  reign,  and  even  to  exist,  you  might  continually  con- 
secrate and  offer  up  your  substance  before  their  eyes 
as  an  oblation  to  his  glory,  and  thus  daily  vindicate  his 
claims,  as  the  fire  perpetually  burning  upon  the  Jewish 
altar  protested  daily  against  the  idolatry  of  the  world, 
and  proclaimed  the  one  living  and  true  God.  And  will 
you  not  do  this  1  Surely  you  will  not  go  over  and  join 
the  party  you  are  intended  to  condemn.  Surely  you 
will  not  betray  your  Lord,  and  enable  his  enemies  to 
triumph.  Then  hasten  to  his  throne,  and  acknowledge 
his  right.  Take  all  that  you  have  into  his  presence,  and 
dedicate  it  afresh  to  his  service.  Inscribe  his  blessed 
name  on  all  your  possessions. 

Think  of  the  great  goodness  you  enjoy  at  his  hands. 
His  tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works;  but  how 
many  of  those  mercies  has  he  caused  to  meet  upon 
your  head!  '^He  daily  loadeth  you  with  his  benefits;" 
and  will  you  bear  them  all  away  from  his  presence,  to 
consume  them  upon  yourself!  Will  you  distribute 
none  of  the  precious  load  among  the  numerous  appli- 
cants he  has  placed  around  you  1  '*  He  crowneih  thee 
with  his  loving-kindness  and  tender  mercies ;"  and 
wearing  the  crown  of  his  royal  favor,  his  sovereign 
love,  will  you  confine  its  light  to  yourself?  Will  you 
not  proclaim  and  honor  the  royalty  of  your  descent  by 
humbly  imitating  his  regal  munificence  and  grace  \  He 
has  placed  you  in  a  world  of  which  his  own  description 
is,  that  it  is  full  of  his  goodness — the  treasury  of  the 
material  universe.  Men  have  filled  it  with  sin  ;  but  he, 
notwithstanding,  keeps  it  filled  with  his  goodness.     The 


ENFORCED.  23 

overflowing  fullness  of  the  ocean — the  amplitude  of  the 
all-encompassing  air — the  unconfined  plenitude  of  the 
light — all  conspire  to  attest  the  infinite  exuberance  of 
his  bounty,  and  to  surcharge  your  heart  with  corres- 
ponding sentiments  of  goodness.  To  be  selfish  in  such. 
a  world  is  one  of  the  greatest  triumphs  of  sin.  Covet- 
ousness  cannot  move  in  it  without  being  rebuked  at 
every  step.  Had  your  life  been  spent  till  to-day  in  the 
solitude  and  darkness  of  a  dungeon,  and  had  you  now 
just  come  forth  into  the  open  theatre  of  the  vast  crea- 
tion, and  awoke  for  the  first  time  to  the  full  conscious- 
ness of  all  this  infinite  goodness,  would  not  your  heart 
enlarge  and  expand  with  all  warm  and  generous  emo- 
tions 1  Could  you  speedily  indulge  in  selfishness  in  a 
world  which  you  found  supported  by  charity,  and  by 
charity  so  abundant  that  the  Divine  donor  seems  to 
have  aimed  to  make  the  sin  impossible  '?  His  rain  would 
surely  subdue  you  into  the  spirit  of  love  ;  his  sun  would 
melt  you  into  kindness.  This  is  why  he  sheds  them 
both  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust.  And  will  you  not 
aspire  to  be  like  him  1  Will  you  not  become  the  ser- 
vant of  his  love  to  his  creatures'?  Can  you  live,  day 
after  day,  in  this  region  of  his  goodness — can  you  have 
the  ennobling  conception  of  his  goodness  occupying 
your  mind  year  after  year — can  you  actually  call  your- 
self a  son  of  this  good  and  gracious  God,  an  heir  of  his 
infinite  goodness,  and  yet  retain  a  narrow,  selfish,  and 
contracted  mind  1  The  Lord  Jesus  himself  calls  on 
you  to  be  merciful,  even  as  your  Father  in  heaven  is 
merciful. 

But,  hitherto,  we  have  been  standing  only  on  the 
threshold  of  the  temple  of  his  goodness.  The  great 
display,  the  '^  unspeakable  gift  "  remains  within.  Your 
misery,  as  a  sinner,  had  excited  his  compassion ;  your 
guilt  demanded  a  sacrifice  ;  your  spiritual  destitution 
had  nothing  to  ofier.    Approach  the  altar  of  sacrifice, 


24j  christian  liberality 

and  behold  the  substitute  which  his  grace  provides. 
'^  God  50  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten 
Son."  "  Herein  is  love  !"  The  universe  is  crowded  with 
proofs  of  his  beneficence  5  but  here  is  a  proof  which 
outweighs  them  all.  How  much  he  loved  us  we  can 
nev^r  compute  ;  we  have  no  line  with  which  to  fathom, 
no  standard  with  which  to  compare  it,  but  he  so  loved 
us  that  he  sent  his  only  begotten  Son  to  be  the  propitia- 
tion for  our  sins.  ^^  Herein  is  love!"  "  Thanks  be  unto 
God  for  his  unspeakable  gift !" 

And  while  you  are  standing  in  the  presence  of  this 
m-atchless  display  of  love,  "  what  doth  the  Lord  require 
of  thee  V  For  yourself,  he  invites  you  to  accept  that 
love  and  be  happy.  And  in  relation  to  your  fellow-men, 
he  only  requires  that  the  stream  of  gratitude,  which  his 
great  love  has  drawn  from  your  heart,  should  be  poured 
into  that  channel  in  which  a  tide  of  mercy  is  rolling 
through  the  world,  and  bearing  blessings  to  the  nations. 
He  who  for  your  sake  gave  his  Son,  asks  you  for  his 
sake  to  give  of  your  worldly  substance  to  the  cause  of 
human  happiness.  He  asks  you,  christian,  to  cast  in 
your  mite  into  that  treasury  into  which  he  hath  given 
his  Son,  and  poured  all  the  blessings  of  his  grace. 

Nor  is  this  all:  he  invites  you  to  advance  from  the 
altar  of  sacrifice  to  the  holiest  of  all  within  the  veil ;  in 
other  words,  he  hath  given  you  Christ,  that  he  may  give 
you  himself.  It  was  by  wandering  from  him  that  man 
first  became  selfish  and  unhappy.  It  was  by  losing  him 
that  man  was  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  looking  for 
happiness  in  the  creature.  And,  because  no  single  kind 
of  created  good  can  satisfy  the  soul,  man  sought  to  ac- 
cumulate all  kinds,  to  monopolize  every  thing — he  be- 
came selfish.  He  is  disposed  to  look  on  every  thing 
which  another  enjoys,  as  so  much  lost  to  himself ;  as  so 
much  taken  away  from  what  might  otherwise  have  fallen 
to  his  own  share  ;  and  thus  he  is  selfish.    But  the  blessed 


ENFORCED.  25 

God,  by  offering  to  bring  you  back  again  to  himself,  is 
offering  to  make  you  independent  of  all  inferior  things ; 
to  put  you  in  possession  of  a  good  which  shall  enable 
you  to  look  down  with  disdain  on  those  things  about 
which  others  are  selfish ;  to  lead  you  to  an  infinite 
good ;  a  good,  therefore,  about  which  you  need  not  be 
selfish ;  for  were  all  the  universe  to  share  and  enjoy  it 
with  you,  it  would  still  be  an  unexhausted,  infinite  full- 
ness of  happiness. 

Now,  let  the  most  miserly  individual  come  suddenly 
into  the  possession  of  great  wealth,  he  would  be  con- 
scious, at  least  for  a  short  time,  of  kind  and  generous 
emotions.  What  then  should  be  your  emotions  at  dis- 
covering, that,  through  Christ,  you  have  found  a  God  % 
and  think,  what  a  God  he  is !  Enumerate  his  perfec- 
tions 5  call  up  in  your  mind  his  exalted  attributes  \  re- 
collect some  of  the  displays  of  his  glory,  the  splendors 
of  his  throne,  the  amplitude  of  his  dominions,  the  angelic 
orders  of  his  kingdom,  the  richness  of  his  gifts,  the  un- 
touched ocean  of  happiness  yet  in  reserve  for  his  people ; 
and  when  your  mind  is  filled,  repeat  to  yourself  the 
wondrous  truth,  "  This  God  is  my  God  for  ever  and 
ever."  And  then  think  what  it  is  to  have  him /br  your 
God:  it  is  to  have  a  real,  participating,  eternal  interest 
in  all  that  he  is  ]  to  have  him  for  your  "  all  in  all ;"  to 
be  "  filled  with  all  the  fullness  of  God." 

Christian,  are  you  aware  of  your  wealth  1  Have  you 
yet  awoke  to  a  conscious  possession  of  your  infinite 
Avealth  %  and  is  it  possible  that  you  can  still  cleave  to 
the  poor  and  perishing  dross  of  the  earth  %  What,  shall 
the  accession  of  infinite  wealth  make  no  difference  in 
your  conduct  \  Will  you  be  as  covetous  with  a  God  as 
without  %  Do  you  not  feel,  rather,  that  you  could  give 
away  the  world  itself  as  a  trifle,  while  you  stand  and 
gaze  at  these  infinite  riches  %  All  who  have  truly  and 
fully  returned  to  God  have  felt  thus.  They  lost  their 
VOL.  X.  33- 


^6  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

selfishness.  They  gazed  on  this  glory,  and  the  world 
was  eclipsed ;  they  thought  of  it,  and  their  heart  be- 
came too  large  for  earth ;  they  reached  after  it,  and  the 
world  fell  from  their  hands,  from  their  hearts.  Having 
found  the  true  source  of  happiness,  they  would  fain  have 
had  all  mankind  to  come  and  share  it  with  them.  And 
when  he  commanded  them  to  call  the  world  to  come  to 
him  and  be  happy,  they  gave  away  every  thing,  even  life 
itself,  in  the  noble  employ,  and  from  love  to  his  name. 

The  obligations,  which  his  love  has  laid  you  under 
are  as  great  as  theirs.  But  how  much  less,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  have  you  felt  them.  And  yet  ihey  felt  them  less 
than  their  magnitude  would  have  warranted.  For  when 
their  emancipated  spirits  had  ascended  from  the  scene 
of  martyrdom  to  heaven — when  they  there  awoke  to  a 
clear  perception  of  the  hell  they  had  escaped,  and  the 
glories  they  had  reached — even  he  among  them  who  on 
earth  had  been  most  alive  to  a  sense  of  his  obligations, 
would  feel  as  if  he  then  felt  them  for  the  first  time. 
And  is  all  that  weight  of  obligation  at  this  moment  rest- 
ing upon  you  ?  0,  where  are  the  numbers  which  shall 
compute  it  \  What  is  the  period  long  enough  to  recount 
it  %  "  What  can  you  render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his 
benefits'?"  What  sacrifices  can  you  devise  costly  enough 
to  express  your  sense  of  them  1  Christian,  could  you  have 
supposed  that  your  property  would  be  accepted  as  one 
of  those  sacrifices'!  Had  he  not  condescended  to  invite 
the  offering,  could  you  have  imagined  that  any  amount, 
or  any  employment,  of  earthly  wealth  would  have  been 
accepted  by  him  %  It  is  one  of  the  lowest  expressions 
of  love  you  can  give  ;  yet  he  accepts  even  that.  Though 
there  is  no  proportion  whatever  between  the  debt  you 
owe  him,  and  all  the  wealth  of  the  world,  he  yet  conde- 
scends to  regard  the  smallest  fraction  of  that  wealth 
as  an  expression  of  your  love  to  his  name.  Let  this, 
then,  dignify  wealth  in  your  eyes  :    value  it  henceforth 


ENFORCED.  2T 

on  this  account,  that  the  Lord  will  accept  it  at  your 
hands  as  an  oflering  of  love.  Rejoice  that  you  have 
found  out  an  oblation  which  he  will  accent  short  of  the 
sacrifice  of  your  life.  Be  thankful,  though  you  may 
have  but  little  with  which  to  present  him.  Practise  self- 
denial,  that  you  may  make  that  little  more.  Seek  out 
the  right  objects  for  it,  the  objects  which  you  deem  to 
be  the  dearest  in  his  sight.  Give  to  them  all  you  can  ; 
for  could  you  give  ten  thousand  times  more,  your  obli- 
gations would  go  on  increasing  infinitely  faster  than 
your  gifts.  They  are  multiplying  on  you  even  Avhile 
you  are  in  the  act  of  giving.  Give  under  a  grateful  sense 
of  your  obligations  ;  and  you  will  feel  that  giving  itself 
is  a  benefit ;  that  it  is  an  act  in  which  you  receive  more 
than  you  render. 

But  to  increase  your  incentives  to  charity,  your 
heavenly  Father  has  laid  on  you  his  divine  commands. 
He  charges  it  upon  you  that  you  ''do  good  unto  all 
men;"  that  you  '^  put  on  bowels  of  mercy;"  that  you 
"abound"  in  the  grace  of  "liberality;"  that  you  "be 
ready  to  distribute,  willing  to  communicate."  And  in 
saying  this,  hq  is  only  commanding  you  to  be  happy, 
and  to  communicate  happiness.  He  has  often  repre- 
sented charity  in  his  word  as  equivalent  with  relative 
righteousness ;  by  which  he  would  intimate  that  it  is  a 
principal  part  of  such  righteousness.  Where  the  second 
table  of  the  law  is  abridged,  and  its  duties  summed  up 
in  a  few  words,  charity  is  not  only  never  omitted,  but 
always  takes  the  lead.  In  all  general  descriptions  of 
piety,  the  practice  of  this  duty  is  specified  as  a  chief 
element.  It  is  declared  to  be  the  most  acceptable  ex- 
pression of  our  love  to  God.  The  choicest  blessing, 
blessedness  itself,  the  essence  of  all  blessings  combined, 
is  promised  to  it.  And  in  the  last  great  day,  when  the 
Son  of  Man  shall  sit  in  judgment  on  the  world,  the  pre- 
sence or  absence  of  christian  benevolence   is  described 


•♦28  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITV 

by  our  Lord  as  determining  the  destinies  of  men.  Now 
these  are  only  so  many  methods  by  which  God  would 
render  the  expression  of  his  will  the  more  emphatical, 
and  urge  us  to  obey  it. 

In  consecrating  your  substance  to  him,  then,  you  will 
be  not  only  gratifying  your  sense  of  obligation,  you  will 
feel  also  that  you  are  obeying  the  will  of  your  God  on 
a  subject  on  which  he  is  most  earnest  and  express.  And 
what  should  furnish  a  stronger  impulse,  or  yield  you 
higher  delight,  than  this  1  In  heaven  his  will  is  the  only 
motive  to  obedience  which  is  necessary  And  will  you 
not  rejoice  in  an  occasion  which  joins  you  with  angels 
in  "  doing  his  commandments  1"  Hasten,  then,  to  take 
your  offering  before  him  :  he  is  waiting  the  presentation 
of  your  gift.  The  hand  of  his  holy  law  is  laid  upon  a 
portion  of  your  property  ;  surely  you  will  not  think  of 
taking  any  of  that  portion  away  ;  rather,  add  to  it ;  let 
him  see  that  your  love  is  not  so  easily  satisfied  as  is 
his  law ;  that  your  gratitude  goes  beyond  his  command  ; 
that  were  it  possible  for  his  law  to  be  repealed,  the  love 
which  you  bear  to  his  blessed  name  would  still  be  a  law 
constantly  demanding  fresh  sacrifices  for  his  altar. 

In  its  inculcations  of  beneficence,  the  Bible  appeals 
to  a  principle  of  well  regulated  self-interest.  Instead  of 
taking  it  for  granted  that  we  should  be  enamored  of 
duty  for  its  own  sake  alone,  our  heavenly  Father  evin- 
ces the  kindest  consideration  of  our  fallen  condition, 
by  accompanying  his  commands  with  appropriate  pro- 
mises and  blessings.  He  graciously  allures  us  to  culti- 
vate the  tree  of  christian  charity,  by  engaging  that  all 
its  fruit  shall  be  our  own.  "  He  who  soweth  bountifully 
shall  reap  also  bountifully."  "  God  is  not  unrighteous, 
to  forget  your  work  and  labor  of  love." 

The  most  marked,  interpositions  and  signal  blessings 
even  of  earthly  prosperity  have  attended  the  practice  of 
christian  liberality  in  every  age.    Volumes  might  easily 


ENFORCED.  29 

be  filled  with  well-attested  instances  of  the  remarkable 
manner  in  which  God  has  honored  and  rewarded  those 
who  in  faith  and  obedience  have  devoted  their  property 
to  him.  Alas !  that  the  christian  church  should  feel  so 
little  interest  in  recording-  such  instances  to  the  glory 
of  its  Lord !  that  we  should  be  so  slow  of  heart  to  be- 
lieve them  when  they  are  recorded ! — for  what  do  they 
prove,  but  only  that  God  is  not  unrighteous  to  forget 
his  promises  '? — and  that  his  people  should  give  him  so 
little  opportunity  of  illustrating  his  paternal  character 
by  trusting  their  temporal  affairs  more  completely  to 
his  hands ! 

Spiritual  prosperity  is  inseparable  from  christian  libe 
rality.  For  "  God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver  :  and  God  is 
able  to  make  all  grace  abound  towards  you  ;  that  ye, 
always  having  all  sufficiency  in  all  things,  may  abound 
to  every  good  work."  As  often  as  you  practise  this 
duty  in  an  evangelical  spirit,  you  must  be  conscious 
that  the  best  part  of  your  sanctified  nature  is  called  into 
exercise  ]  your  heart  is  partially  discharged  of  its  re- 
maining selfishness ;  your  mind  is  braced  more  for 
christian  activity  j  your  sympathy  causes  you  to  feel 
afresh  your  alliance  with  man  ;  your  beneficence  en- 
ables you  to  rejoice  in  your  union  of  spirit  with  Christ, 
and  adds  a  new  bond  to  that  power  of  affection  which 
binds  you  to  his  cause.  And  while  other  duties  bring  you 
nearer  to  Christ,  this  may  be  said  at  once  to  place  you 
by  his  side,  and  to  exalt  you  into  a  real  though  humble 
imitator  of  his  divine  benevolence. 

The  christian,  moreover,  is  assured  that  the  property 
which  he  devotes  to  God  is  so  much  treasure  laid  up 
in  heaven,  so  much  seed  destined  to  fructify  into  a  har- 
vest of  eternal  enjoyment.  Christian,  would  you  render 
your  property  secure  1  place  it  in  the  hand  of  omnipo- 
tent Faithfulness.  Retain  it  in  your  own  possession, 
and  it  is  the  proper  emblem  of  uncertainty ;  but  devote 


30 


CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 


it  to  God,  and  from  that  moment  it  is  stamped  with  his 
immutability,  liis  providence  becomes  your  estate,  and 
his  word  your  unfailing  security.  Would  you  enjoy 
your  substance  1  "  Give  alms  of  such  things  as  you 
have  ;  and,  behold  all  things  are  clean  unto  you."  The 
oblation  of  your  first  fruits  unto  God  will  cleanse,  and 
sanctify,  and  impart  a  superior  relish  to  all  you  possess. 
Like  the  first  christians,  you  will  then  eat  your  meat 
with  gladness  and  singleness  of  heart.  Would  you  m- 
crea^e  your  property  1  "Honor  the  Lord  with  thy  sub- 
stance, so  shall  thy  barns  be  filled  with  plenty,  and  thy 
presses  shall  burst  out  with  new  wine."  "  For  this  thing 
the  Lord  thy  God  shall  bless  thee  in  all  thy  works,  and 
in  all  that  thou  puttest  thine  hand  unto."  Sow  your  sub- 
stance, then,  as  seed  in  the  hand  of  Christ,  that  hand 
which  fed  the  multitude  with  a  morsel,  and  which  mul- 
tiplies whatever  it  touches  with  its  own  infinite  bounty. 
Would  you  grow  in  grace  ?  in  love  and  likeness  to 
Christ  1  Would  you  increase  with  all  the  increase  of 
God  1  and  abound  in  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  1  "  The 
liberal  soul  shall  be  made  fat,  and  he  that  watereth 
shall  be  watered  also  himself."  Would  you  be  rick  for 
eternity  ?  Would  you  cultivate  "  fruit  that  may  abound 
to  your  account  "  in  the  invisible  world  %  Invest  your 
property  in  the  cause  of  Christ  ;  and  he  engages  to  re- 
quite you, — not,  indeed,  as  of  debt ;  this  the  magnitude 
of  the  requital  shows,  but  of  his  own  exuberant  muni- 
ficence,— he  promises  to  repaj'^  you  a  hundred-fold  in 
the  present  life,  and  in  the  world  to  come  life  everlast- 
ino-.  As  much  of  your  property  as  you  have  already  de- 
voted to  him,  however  humbly  you  may  think  of  it, 
is  regarded  and  watched  over  by  him  as  "  a  good  foun- 
dation laid  up  against  the  time  to  come,  that  you  may 
lay  hold  on  eternal  life."  And  all  that  you  may  here- 
after cast  into  his  treasury,  shall  certainly  precede  your 
arrival  in  heaven,  and  there  be  converted  for  you  into 


ENFORCED.  31 

incorruptible   treasures  ''  to  the  praise  of  the  glory  of 
his  grace." 

Is  the  welfare  of  your  posterity  an  object  1  The  parent 
who  makes  this  an  excuse  for  robbing  the  cause  of  God 
of  its  due,  is  defrauding  his  offspring  of  God's  blessing, 
entailing  on  them  the  divine  displeasure,  leaving  them 
heirs  of  the  punishment  which  his  own  robbery  of  God 
has  deserved.  This  is  improvidence  of  the  most  awful 
kind.  But  let  your  regard  for  their  wants  be  combined 
with  a  proportionate  regard  for  the  claims  of  benevo- 
lence, and  you  will  be  demising  to  your  offspring  that 
rich,  that  inexhaustible  inheritance,  the  inheritance  of 
God's  blessing.  Providence  will  look  on  them  as  its 
own  wards  ;  will  care  for  them  as  its  own  children. 

Do  you  desire  to  be  remembered,  to  enjoy  lasting 
fame  %  "  The  risfhteous  shall  be  had  in  everlasting  re- 
membrance."  "  The  memory  of  the  just  is  blessed." 
And  here,  by  the  righteous  and  the  just  is  to  be  under- 
stood especially  the  bountiful.  His  memory  is  followed 
with  commendations  into  the  presence  of  God.  His 
character  is  embalmed  in  its  own  piety.  His  name 
passes  with  commendation  through  the  lips  of  God,  and 
that  gives  it  immortality.  His  benevolence  resulted 
from  the  grace  of  God ;  and,  as  such,  the  honor  of  God 
is  concerned  in  making  its  memory  immortal. 

Would  you  acquire  a  right  in  your  property  1  a  right 
which  shall  justify  you  in  calling  it  your  own  1  By 
withholding  it  from  God,  you  are  forfeiting  all  interest 
in  it,  and  laying  yourself  open  to  the  charge  of  em- 
bezzlement and  fraud.  But  by  devoting  it  to  his  service, 
you  would  be  acquiring  an  everlasting  interest  in  it ; 
for  you  would  never  cease  to  enjoy  the  good  resulting 
from  its  divine  employment.  Hence  the  solution  of  the 
epitaph  of  a  charitable  man,  "  What  I  retained  I  have 
lost,  what  I  gave  away  remains  with  me." 

By  the  practice  of  christian  liberality,  the  glory  of  God 


32 


CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 


and  the  credit  of  religion  are  promoted  ; — and  what  ob- 
ject should  be  of  more  precious  and  abiding  concern  to 
the  believer  than  this  \  "  The  ministration  of  this  ser- 
vice not  only  supplieth  the  want  of  the  saints,  but  is 
abundant  also  by  many  thanksgivings  unto  God  :  w^hile 
by  the  experiment  of  this  ministration  they  glorify  God 
for  your  professed  subjection  unto  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 
and  for  your  liberal  distribution  unto  them  and  to  all 
men."  The  new-born  liberality  of  the  first  christians 
for  the  support  of  their  needy  brethren  threw  the  church 
into  a  holy  transport  of  delight.  It  was  bringing  the 
benevolent  power  of  Christianity  to  the  test ;  and,  as  a 
masterpiece  of  human  mechanism,  when  tried  and  found 
to  exceed  expectation,  fills  the  beholders  with  delight — 
the  result  of  "  the  experiment  of  this  ministration"  was 
such  as  to  call  forth  songs  of  exultation  to  the  glory  of 
God.  It  displayed  the  Gospel  in  a  new  aspect,  brought 
to  light  its  benevolent  energies,  showed  them  that  much 
as  they  knew  of  its  virtues,  it  contained  hidden  excel- 
lencies  which  it  would  require  time  and  circumstances 
to  evolve  and  display  :  it  filled  the  church  with  a  chorus 
of  praise  to  the  glory  of  God. 

For  what  but  his  grace  could  produce  such  liberality  % 
it  was  supernatural ;  the  apostle,  therefore,  emphatical- 
ly denominates  it  the  grace  of  God.  So  spontaneous  and 
munificent  was  it,  that  it  resembled  the  gifts  of  his 
grace.  So  purely  did  it  result  from  love  to  the  brethren, 
from  the  overflowings  of  tender  compassion  for  their 
wants,  that  it  was  truly  godlike.  So  unparalleled  and 
unworldly  an  act  was  it,  that  the  grace  of  God  alone 
could  produce  it.  It  was  grace  from  the  Fountain,  flow- 
ing forth  in  streams  of  liberality  through  the  channels 
of  his  people.  As  if  it  were  the  noblest  form  that  the 
love  of  God  could  take  in  his  people,  he  confers  on  it 
this  crowning  title,  the  grace  of  God.  And,  indeed,  it 
would  be  easy  to  show  that  there  is  scarcely  any  duty 


ENFORCED.  33 

SO  purely  the  result  of  grace  as  genuine  christian  libe- 
rality ;  that  the  practice  of  it  on  any  thing  like  the 
primitive  scale,  requires  more  grace,  and  exercises  and 
illustrates  a  greater  number  of  the  principles  of  piety, 
than  almost  any  other  duty.  The  church  cannot  wit- 
ness it  without  being  strongly  reminded  of  her  high 
descent,  her  unearthly  character — without  falling  down 
afresh  before  the  throne  of  Him  whose  constrainingf 
love  thus  triumphs  over  the  selfishness  of  humanity. 
The  world  cannot  witness  it  without  feelino-  its  own 
selfishness  condemned,  without  secretly  bowing  to  the 
divinity  of  religion. 

Christian,  would  you  enjoy  the  most  endearing  evi- 
dences of  your  heavenly  Father's  love  1  place  your 
property  at  his  disposal,  and  daily  trust  him  for  daily 
provision.  If  his  character  be  paternal,  your  character 
should  be  filial  j  and  the  leading  feature  of  that  is  un- 
limited dependence.  Would  you  honor  him  in  his 
church  1  copy  the  example  of  "the  churches  of  Mace- 
donia" in  their  abundant  liberality;  and  you  will  pro- 
voke some  of  your  fellow-christians  to  emulation,  and 
send  others  with  grateful  hearts  into  the  presence  of 
God,  and  assist  in  enlarging  the  sphere  of  evangelical 
labor,  and  raise  the  standard  of  christian  piety,  and 
cause  the  church  of  Christ  to  resound  with  the  high 
praises  of  his  constraining  love.  And  would  you  glorify 
God  before  the  world  1  Let  the  light  of  your  christian 
liberality  shine  before  men.  Not  only  practise  the  duty, 
but  practise  it  on  such  a  scale  as  shall  proclaim  to  them 
the  existence  of  a  superintending  Providence,  and  con- 
vince them  of  your  reliance  on  its  care.  Devise  liberal 
things  for  the  cause  of  God,  and  you  will  thus  be  as- 
serting the  controversy  of  your  heavenly  Father  with 
an  unbelieving  world ;  vindicating  and  attesting  the 
faithfulness  of  his  word,  the  watchfulness  of  his  love, 
and  the  benevolent  power  of  his  holy  Gospel.  With- 
VOL.  X.  34 


34  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

draw  your  trust  from  those  goods  in  which  the  ungodly 
confide,- resign  them  to  God,  and  you  will  be  affording 
him  an  occasion  for  displaying  his  paternal  love.  He 
charges  you  to  be  careful  for  nothing,  that  he  may 
evince  his  carefulness  of  you. 

Of  the  poor  it  is  said,  that  he  who  oppresseth  them 
reproacheth  his  Maker  ; — charges  God  with  injustice 
for  permitting  them  to  be  poor,  and  for  devolving  their 
maintenance  on  him  ;  insults  God  in  the  person  of  the 
poor,  by  refusing  to  charge  himself  with  the  care  of 
them,  though  sent  to  him  with  promises  direct  from 
God.  And  thus,  though  God  meant  to  employ  the  rich 
as  his  agents  for  the  poor,  to  bind  them  to  each  other 
by  the  constant  interchange  of  gratitude  and  benevo- 
lence, and  to  illustrate  and  honor  his  providential  govern- 
ment, the  selfishness  of  man  frustrates  his  plans,  and 
turns  his  honor  into  a  reproach.  In  a  very  similar  man- 
ner he  has  devolved  the  christian  interest  on  his  people, 
and  the  world  is  watching  their  conduct  in  relation  to 
it.  If  they  treat  it  as  a  burden,  God  will  deem  himself 
reproached ;  but  let  them  meet  its  demands,  and  enrich 
it  with  their  liberality,  and  the  power  of  his  Gospel  and 
the  wisdom  of  his  arrangements  will  be  seen,  the  world 
will  render  him  the  homage  of  its  silent  admiration,  and 
his  church  will  triumph  in  every  place. 

The  great  Gospel  argument  for  christian  liberality  is 
the  divine  example  of  the  Redeemer'' s  love.  "  Hereby  per- 
ceive we  his  love," — as  if  every  other  display  of  love 
were  eclipsed  by  the  effulgence  of  this ;  as  if  all  possi- 
ble illustrations  of  love  were  summed  up  in  this, — 
"  Hereby  perceive  we  his  love,  because  he  laid  down 
his  life  for  us :  and  we  ought  to  lay  down  our  lives  for 
the  brethren."  ''  But  whoso  hath  this  world's  goods, 
and  seeth  his  brother  have  need,  and  shutteth  up  his 
bowels  of  compassion  from  him,  how  dwelleth  the  love 
of  God  in  him  V     How  can  the  love  of  Christ  inhabit 


EIVFORCKD.  35 

that  bosom  which  is  a  stranger  to  sympathy  for  his  peo- 
ple 1  111  indeed  does  he  pretend  readiness  to  die  for 
Christ,  who  Avill  not  give  a  little  money  towards  the 
support  of  his  cause  and  people. 

When  the  Apostle  Paul  would  enjoin  the  Philippians 
to  ''  look  not  every  man  on  his  own  things,  but  every 
man  also  on  the  things  of  others,"  he  points  them  to 
"  the  mind  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus  :  who,  being 
in  the  form  of  God,  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal 
with  God  :  but  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and  took 
upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  was  made  in  the 
likeness  of  men  ;  and,  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man, 
he  humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient  unto  death, 
even  the  death  of  the  cross."  He  does  not  content  him- 
self with  merely  stating  the  fact  of  our  Lord's  condes- 
cension and  death ;  but,  as  if  he  loved  to  linger  on  the 
subject,  he  traces  it  from  stage  to  stage  :  as  if  the  im- 
mensity of  the  stoop  which  Christ  made  were  too  great 
to  be  comprehended  at  once,  he  divides  it  into  parts, 
and  follows  him  downwards  from  point  to  point,  till  he 
has  reached  the  lowest  depth  of  his  humiliation.  As  if 
he  felt  convinced  that  the  amazing  spectacle,  if  duly 
considered,  could  not  fail  to  annihilate  selfishness  in 
every  other  heart,  as  it  had  in  his  own,  the  only  anxiety 
he  evinces  is  that  it  should  be  seen,  be  vividly  presented 
before  the  eye  of  the  mind.  Having  carried  our  thoughts 
up  to  that  infinite  height  where  Christ  had  been  from 
eternity  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  he  shows  us  the 
Son  of  God  divesting  himself  of  his  glory ;  and  then, 
he  detains  our  eye  in  a  prolonged  gaze  on  his  descend- 
ing course  ;  condescending  to  be  born  ;  voluntarily  sub- 
jecting himself  to  all  the  humbling  conditions  of  our 
nature  ;  taking  on  himself  the  responsibilities  of  a  ser- 
vant ;  still  humbling  himself,  still  passing  from  one  depth 
of  ignominy  to  a  lower  still;  becoming  obedient  unto 
death  \  and  that  death  the   most  humbling,   the   most 


36  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

replete  with  agony  and  shame,  the  death  of  the  cross. 

Christian,  can  you  ever  contemplate  this  wonderful 
exhibition  without  renewed  emotions  of  love  1  without 
feeling  afresh  that  you  are  not  your  own  1  And  say, 
ought  such  grace  in  Christ  to  be  requited  with  parsimo- 
ny in  his  followers  %  Ought  such  a  Master  to  be  served 
by  grudging  and  covetous  servants '!  Ought  such  a 
Saviour  to  have  to  complain  that  those  who  have  been  re- 
deemed, and  who  know  they  have  been  redeemed,  not  with 
corruptible  things,  such  as  silver  and  gold,  but  with  his 
own  most  precious  blood,  are  so  much  attached  to  that 
corruptible  wealth,  that  they  will  not  part  with  it,  though 
urged  by  the  claims  of  that  most  precious  blood  1  0, 
shame  to  humanity  !  0,  reproach  to  the  christian  name  ! 
Be  concerned,  christian,  to  wipe  ofT  the  foul  stain. 
Bring  forth  your  substance,  and  spread  it  before  him. 
Were  you  to  give  up  all  to  him,  would  it  be  very  repre- 
hensible, or  ve7'y  unaccountable,  considering  that  he 
gave  up  all  for  you  1  At  least,  economize  for  Christ. 
Retrench,  retrench  your  expenditure,  that  you  may  be 
able  to  increase  your  liberality.  Deny,  deny  yourself 
for  his  cause,  as  you  value  consistency,  as  you  profess 
to  be  a  follower  of  him,  "who  his  own  self  bare  our  sins 
in  his  own  body  on  the  tree." 

In  his  second  epistle  to  the  Corinthians  we  find  the 
apostle  enforcing  the  practice  of  christian  liberality ; 
and  various  and  cogent  are  the  motives  which  he  ad- 
duces to  excite  their  benevolence.  But  we  might  rest 
assured  that  it  would  not  be  long  before  he  introduced 
the  motive  of  our  Lord's  example.  The  love  of  Christ 
was  the  actuating  principle  of  his  own  conduct ;  it  in- 
fluenced him  more  than  all  other  motives  combined.  If 
ever  his  ardor  in  the  path  of  duty  flagged  for  a  moment, 
he  glanced  at  the  cross,  thought  of  the  great  love  where- 
with Christ  had  loved  him,  and  instantly  girded  on  his 
zeal  afresh.     In  addressing  others,  therefore,  he   never 


ENFORCED.  37 

failed  to  introduce  this  motive  ;  he  relied  on  it  as  his 
main  strength  ;  he  brought  it  to  bear  upon  them  in  all 
its  subduing-  and  constraining  force. 

And  how  tender,  how  pointed,  how  melting  the  appeal 
which  he  makes  !  "  Ye  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  that,  though  he  was  rich,  yet  for  your  sakes 
lie  became  poor,  that  ye  through  his  poverty  might  be 
rich."  You  know  the  height  from  which  he  stooped.  You 
know  the  depth  of  humiliation  to  which  he  descended; 
that  he  found  no  resting-place  between  his  throne  and 
the  cross.  You  know  for  whom  he  did  this — for  his  ene- 
mies, his  destroyers.  You  know  that  he  did  this  volunta- 
rily ;  that  he  was  under  no  necessary  obligation  to  en- 
dure it ;  that  his  own  love  was  the  only  obligation  ;  that 
he  welcomed  each  indignity,  invited  each  pang  ;  made 
them  a  part  of  his  plan  of  condescension.  You  know 
how  earnestly  he  prosecuted  the  work  of  our  salvation  ; 
that  in  every  step  he  took  he  was  only  gratifying  the 
compassionate  yearnings  of  his  own  heart ;  that  he  as^ 
sumed  life  for  the  express  purpose  of  laying  it  down  ; 
that  though  he  saw,  as  from  a  height,  the  whole  array 
of  duty  and  trial  which  awaited  him,  the  only  emotions 
which  he  evinced  at  the  sight  were  a  self-consuming 
ardor  to  reach  the  cross  which  stood  at  the  end  of  his 
path,  a  holy  impatience  to  be  baptized  with  that  baptism 
of  blood.  You  know  the  object  for  which  he  did  it  all — 
for  your  salvation  ;  that  he  might  pour  his  fulness  into 
your  emptiness,  his  riches  into  your  poverty ;  that  he 
might  raise  you  to  heaven,  and  share  with  you  the  glo- 
ries of  his  own  throne. 

You  know  this  ;  not,  indeed,  in  the  sense  of  compre- 
hending it ;  that  is  impossible,  for  it  is  a  love  which 
passeth  such  knowledge.  But  you  know  it  by  report ; 
you  have  heard  of  it.  It  is  the  theme  of  the  universe. 
Heaven  resounds  with  it  ;  the  church  on  earth  is  full  of 
it;   the   eternal  Father  commands   it    to  be    published 

VOL.  X.  yi-^ 


38  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

throughout  the  world.  And  so  amazing  is  it,  :he  bare 
announcement  of  it  should  be  sufficient  to  transform 
selfishness  itself  into  disinterested  love.  But  you  know 
it  experimentally.  You  can  look  back  on  a  time  when 
you  were  in  a  state  of  alienation  from  God  bordering 
on  perdition  ;  you  have  been  plucked  as  a  brand  from 
the  burning  j  and  now  you  are  looking  forwards  to 
eternal  life,  with  Christ,  in  heaven ;  and  you  know  that 
you  owe  your  deliverance  and  all  your  hopes  to  the 
grace  of  Christ.  You  know  what  he  endured  for  your 
redemption  j  that  he  loved  you,  ''  and  gave  himself  for 
you  ;"  and  will  you  withhold  from  him  any  thing  in 
your  possession  1  Can  you  believe  that  he  died  for  you  ? 
that,  in  dying,  he  wore  your  name  upon  his  breast  1  that 
his  heart  ch^ished  the  thought  of  your  happiness  {  that 
he  made  himself  poor  to  enrich  you  ?  and  will  you  not 
freely  contribute  of  your  worldly  substance  to  diffuse 
the  knowledge  of  his  grace! 

Did  he  employ  his  heavenly  powers  solely  for  your 
salvation  %  lay  himself  out  for  your  happiness  1  Yes, 
saith  he,  "  For  their  sakes  1  sanctify  myself.  I  set  my- 
self apart,  I  appropriate  all  I  have  and  am  to  the  work 
of  their  salvation."  And  he  did  so.  When  did  he  ever 
go  about  but  to  do  good  1  When  did  he  ever  open  his 
hand  but  to  bless  1  or  weep,  but  in  sympathy  with  hu- 
man wo  1  What  object  did  he  ever  pursue  but  that  of 
benevolence  1  imparting  life  to  ihe  dying,  pardon  te 
the  guilty,  purity  to  the  depraved,  blessings  to  all  around 
him.  "  Let  the  same  mind  ue  in  you  which  was  also  in 
Christ  Jesus."  He  was  the  author  of  riches,  and  the 
heir  of  all  things  ;  but  all  he  possessed  he  gave  for  your 
salvation,  and  all  that  you  possess  you  should  employ 
for  his  glory.  You  enjoy  a  portion  of  this  world's  goods; 
consider  the  use  which  he  would  have  made  of  it,  and 
copy  his  divine  example. 

Did  he   not   only   employ   his   heavenly  powers,  but 


ENFORCED.  3# 

actually  deny  himself,  suffer,  die  for  your  happiness  1 
He  pleased  not  himself.  He  endured  the  cross,  despis- 
ing the  shame.  He  poured  out  his  soul  unto  death. 
Himself  he  would  not  save.  He  would  not  come  down 
from  the  cross.  0  !  how  did  he,  for  a  season,  annihi- 
late himself!  How  did  he  take  our  place,  take  our  curse, 
and  endure  it  all !  That  was  compassion.  That  was 
looking  on  the  things  of  others.  That  was  benevolence 
— disinterested,  unparalleled,  matchless  benevolence. 
Let  this  mind  be  in  you.  Never  can  you  hope  to  equal 
it,  for  it  is  infinite — the  grace  of  a  God  :  but  so  much 
the  greater  your  obligation  to  approach  it  as  nearly  as 
you  can. 

Christian,  you  know  his  grace — you  feel  it.  How 
much  owest  thou  unto  thy  Lord  1  Do  you  ever  attempt 
to  compute  the  mighty  sum  %  Endeavor  to  realize  the 
idea  ;  and  if  then  you  feel  any  reluctance  to  consecrate 
your  substance  to  him,  it  can  only  be  on  the  ground 
of  its  utter  insignificance.  But  he  asks  for  it  as  an  ex- 
pression of  your  love — yes,  he  asks  for  it.  He  comes 
to  you  every  time  an  appeal  is  made  to  your  christian 
liberality,  and,  as  he  turns  on  you  a  look  of  benignity 
and  love,  he  inquires,  '^Lovest  thou  me  V  And  as  he 
points  to  that  portion  of  your  property  which  ought  to 
be  devoted  to  his  cause,  he  asks  you  again,  "  Lovest 
thou  me  more  than  this  1"  If  so,  devote  it  to  my  cause, 
consecrate  it  to  my  service.  And  he  saith  unto  you  the 
third  time,  "  Lovest  thou  me  1"  If  so,  feed  my  lambs, 
feed  my  sheep ;  support  my  poor  ;  aid  my  interest  in 
the  world  ;  encourage  every  effort  made  to  bring  home 
my  wandering  sheep;  think  of  the  millions  of  them 
that  are  perishing,  millions  for  whom  I  died  ;  shall  my 
love  be  defrauded  of  them  1  shall  I  not  behold  in  them 
the  travail  of  my  soul,  and  be  satisfied  1  By  the  love  you 
bear  to  me,  and  by  the  infinitely  greater  love  I  bear  to 
you,  imitate  my  love  ;  and  you  know  the  extent  of  that, 


40  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

"  you  know  the  grace  of  your  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that, 
though  he  was  rich,  for  your  sake  he  became  poor,  that 
you  through  his  poverty  might  be  rich." 

O,  christian,  study  your  obligations  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross.  If  you  would  imbibe  the  disinterested  and  self- 
sacrificing  benevolence  of  your  blessed  Lord,  take  your 
station  daily  at  the  cross.  Never  till  you  do  this,  will 
you  feel  the  claims  which  he  has  upon  you.  But  when 
you  there  see  the  great  love  wherewith  he  hath  loved  you, 
we  will  defy  you  to  be  covetous,  inactive,  selfish  in  his 
cause.  You  cannot  fail  to  love  him  ;  that  love  cannot 
fail  to  constrain  you  ;  and,  constrained  by  thai,  you  will 
be  turned  into  a  pains-taking,  self-denying,  devoted  ser- 
vant of  Christ ;  to  whom  he  will  say,  daily,  "  Well  done, 
good  and  faithful  servant,"  till  the  day  when  he  will  sum 
up  all  his  grace  by  adding,  "  Enter  thou  into  the  joy  of 
thy  Lord." 

If  you  are  truly  a  christian,  you  have  felt  that  you  are 
not  your  own,  that  you  are  bought  with  a  price  :  in  other 
words,  you  see  so  clearly,  and  feel  so  strongly,  that  you 
owe  yourself  to  Christ,  that  you  have  gone  to  his  feet 
and  implored  his  acceptance  of  your  soul.  But  the  dedi- 
cation of  yourself  includes  the  surrender  of  your  properly. 

It  is  related  in  Roman  history,  that  when  the  people 
of  Collatia  stipulated  about  their  surrender  to  the  autho- 
rity and  protection  of  Rome,  the  question  asked  was, 
"  Do  you  deliver  up  yourselves,  the  Collatine  people, 
your  city,  your  fields,  your  water,  your  bounds,  your 
temples,  your  utensils,  all  things  that  are  yours,  both 
human  and  divine,  into  the  hands  of  the  people  of 
Rome  1"  And  on  their  replying,"  We  deliver  up  all,"  they 
were  received.  The  voluntary  surrender  which  you, 
christian,  have  made  to  Christ,  though  not  so  detailed 
and  specific  as  this  formula,  is  equally  comprehensive. 
And  do  you  not  account  those  your  best  moments  when 
you  feel  constrained  to  lament  that  your  surrender  com- 


ENFOKGED.  4il 

prehends  no  morel  Can  you  recall  to  mind  the  w^ay  in 
which  he  has  redeemed  you,  the  misery  from  which  he 
has  snatched  you,  and  the  blessedness  to  which  he  is 
conducting-  you,  without  feeling  that  he  has  bought  you 
a  thousand  times  over  1  that  you  are  his  by  the  tender- 
est,  weightiest  obligations  1  And  when  you  feel  thus, 
how  utterly  impossible  would  it  be  for  you  at  such  a  mo- 
ment to  stipulate  for  an  exception  in  favor  of  your  pro- 
perty ! — to  harbor  a  mental  reservation  in  favor  of  thai  ! 

Can  you  think  of  the  blessedness  attending  the  act  it- 
self of  dedication  to  God, — that  you  are  wedding  your- 
self to  infinite  riches,  uniting  yourself  to  infinite  beauty, 
allying  yourself  to  infinite  excellence ;  giving  yourself 
to  God,  and  receiving  God  in  return,  so  that  henceforth 
all  his  infinite  resources,  his  providence,  his  Son,  his 
Spirit,  his  heaven,  he  Himself,  all  become  yours,  to  the 
utmost  degree  in  which  you  can  enjoy  them, — can  you 
think  of  this  without  often  repeating  the  act  1  without 
feeling  that  had  you  all  the  excellencies  of  a  myriad  of 
angels,  his  love  would  deserve  the  eternal  devotion  of 
the  whole  1  Realize  to  your  own  mind  the  nature  of 
christian  dedication,  and  the  claims  of  Him  who  calls 
for  it,  and,  so  far  from  giving  penuriously  to  his  cause, 
you  will  take  every  increase  of  your  substance  into  his 
presence,  and  devote  it  to  his  praise ;  you  will  regard 
every  appeal  which  is  made  to  your  christian  benevolence 
as  an  appeal  to  that  solemn  treaty  which  made  you  his, 
and  you  will  honor  it  accordingly  ;  you  will  deeply  feel 
the  penury  of  all  riches  as  an  expression  of  your  love 
to  him  ;  Lebanon  would  not  be  sufficient  to  burn,  or  the 
beasts  thereof  an  offering  large  enough,  to  satisfy  the 
cravings  of  your  love. 

Think,  moreover,  of  the  high  design  for  which  God 
condescends  to  accept  your  surrender.  Not  that  you  may 
live  to  yourself,  but  entirely  to  him.  Having  disposed  and 
enabled  you  to  give  yourself  to  him,  he  would  then  bap- 


•12     -  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITV 

tize  you  in  the  element  of  divine  love,  and  give  you  to 
the  world. 

'^  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  be- 
gotten Son "  to  redeem  it.  The  object,  indeed,  for 
which  he  was  given,  was,  like  himself,  infinite  ;  an  object 
which  never  can  be  shared,  and  which  never  need  be 
repeated.  But  the  office  to  which  God  designates  every 
man  from  the  moment  of  his  conversion  is  meant  to  be 
anew  donation  to  the  world.  The  relation  in  which  he 
places  him  to  the  world  is  meant  to  be  a  fresh  expres- 
sion of  the  same  infinite  love  which  prompted  him  to 
give  Christ  j  it  is  to  be  viewed  as  nothing  less  than  a 
symbolical  representation  to  the  world  of  that  unspeaka- 
ble  gift.  He  is  not  thai  gift,  but  is  sent  to  bear  witness 
of  that  gift ;  not  merely  to  announce  it  with  his  lips, 
but  to  describe  and  commemorate  its  fulness  and  free- 
ness  in  his  own  character.  Like  his  blessed  Lord,  he 
is  to  look  upon  himself  as  dedicated  to  the  cause  of 
human  happiness,  dedicated  from  eternity. 

Christian,  you  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ, — might  the  world  infer  the  existence  of  his 
grace  from  your  conduct!  Is  your  benevolence  worthy 
of  him,  who,  ''  though  he  was  rich,  for  your  sake  be- 
came poor!"  He  turned  himself  into  a  fountain  of 
grace  and  love,  and  called  you  to  be  a  christian,  that 
you  might  be  a  consecrated  channel  of  his  grace  to 
others.  He  requires  all  the  benevolent  agency  of  hea- 
ven and  earth  to  be  put  into  motion,  in  order  to  do 
justice  to  the  purposes  of  his  love  ;  and  he  has  called 
you  into  his  service  in  order  to  increase  that  agency. 
Surely  you  are  not,  by  the  love  of  money,  frustrating 
that  design.  As  well  for  the  perishing  world  had  he 
never  died  for  its  salvation,  if  his  appointed  and  conse- 
crated agents  neglect  to  make  him  known.  Surely  you 
are  not,  by  living  only  to  yourself,  by  wasting  your 
property  on  yourself  as  fast  as  he  gives  it  to  you,  leav- 


ENFORCED.  43 

ing  the  world  to  infer  that  his  cliaracter  bore  any  re- 
semblance to  yours ;  and  leaving^  it,  besides,  to  perish 
under  your  eye,  because  an  effort  to  save  it  would  incur 
expense.  You  have  not,  you  cannot  have  so  learned 
Christ.  But  what  then  are  you  giving?  more  than  the 
heathen  to  his  idol-god  1  more  than  the  votary  of  a 
corrupted  Christianity  to  the  object  of  his  superstitious 
resrard  1  or  more  than  the  irrelin^ious  worldlinof  devotes 
to  pleasure  and  self-indulgence".  "  What  do  ye  more 
than  others  1" 

Consider  also  the  happy  injiucnce  which  a  spirit  of 
christian  liberality  would  have  on  your  own  enjoyment. 
^By  taking  from  ihe  flesh  the  means  of  self-indulgence, 
it  would  be  exalting  the  spirit.  It  would  be  enlarging 
your  heart,  and  ennobling  your  character,  and  identify- 
ing you  with  all  things  good,  and  glorious,  and  happy 
in  the  universe.  Much  as  it  might  benefit  the  cause  of 
God,  it  would  still  more  minister  to  the  welfare  and 
happiness  of  your  own  soul. 

Devise  liberal  things^  and  by  liberal  things  you  shall 
stand.  Taste  the  luxury  of  doing  good,  and  you  will  re- 
gret that  you  began  so  late.  Select  for  imitation  the 
loftiest  examples — the  few  distinguished  names  whose 
praise  is  in  all  the  churches — and  you  will  be  con- 
scious of  a  delight  which  an  angel  might  be  grateful  to 
share.  God  himself  is  the  happiest  being,  because  he 
is  the  most  benevolent ;  and  you  would  then  in  the 
most  exalted  sense  be  holding  fellowship  with  him  ; 
you  would  understand  experimentally  the  saying  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  "  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than 
to  receive  ;"  you  would  make  all  the  beneficence  of  the 
world  your  own,  by  the  complacency  with  which  you 
would  behold  it  exercised  and  enjoyed. 

But  the  motives  to  christian  charity  are  endless.  The 
state  of  the  world  requires  it.  How  vast  its  multitudes; 
how  urgent  and  awful  their   condition  ;  how  brief  the 


44«  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

hour  for  benefiting  them  ;  how  mighty  the  interest  pend- 
ing on -that  short  hour!  Look  where  you  will,  your 
eye  will  encounter  signals  to  be  active  ;  myriads  of  ob- 
jects, in  imploring  or  commanding  attitudes,  urging 
you  to  come  to  the  help  of  the  Lord,  to  the  help  of  the 
Lord  against  the  mighty. 

The  church  calls  for  it.  It  has  many  an  agent  of  mer- 
cy to  send  forth,  if  you  will  but  aid  to  furnish  the  means. 
It  has  many  a  generous  purpose  in  its  heart,  many  a 
long-cherished  and  magnanimous  project  ready  to  leap 
to  Its  lips,  if  your  liberality  should  encourage  it  to  speak. 
It  burns  with  a  holy  impatience  to  reap  the  vast  harvest 
of  the  heathen  world,  which  Providence  seems  to  have 
prepared  and  to  be  keeping  for  its  sickle  : — will  you  not 
aid  to  send  forth  more  laborers  into  the  harvest  1  It  has 
been  slumbering  at  its  post  for  ages  ;  it  is  now  awaking 
to  an  alarmed  consciousness  of  its  neglected  responsibi- 
lities, and,  as  it  counts  up  its  long  arrears  of  duty,  it 
hastens  to  atone  for  the  past  by  instituting  one  society, 
and  adopting  one  remedy  after  another,  and  sending  its 
agents  to  plead  for  help  from  its  members,  in  the  name 
of  Christ, — and  will  you  not  help  it  in  its  straits  1  A 
proportion  of  its  guilt  is  lying  upon  you  ; — will  you  not 
aid  it  to  retrieve  the  past  1  and  assist  it  to  recover  and 
present  to  the  world  its  primitive  aspect  of  love  and 
zeal  1 

The  christians  of  apostolic  times  call  for  it.  Benevo- 
lence was  their  characteristic.  A  selfish  christian  was 
a  contradiction  of  which  they  were  happily  ignorant. 
For  such  an  anomaly  their  church  had  provided  no  place  ; 
they  would  have  cast  him  forth  from  among  them,  as  a 
disgrace.  They  had  the  grand  secret  of  giving  up  all 
for  Christ,  and  yet  accounting  themselves  rich  ;  the  art 
of  taking  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their  goods  ;  the  prin- 
ciple of  finding  their  happiness  in  living  to  God,  in 
spending  and  being  spent  in  his  service.    It  would  have 


ENFORCED.  4-5 

been  difficult  to  convince  them  that  they  were  in  dan- 
ger of  giving  too  freely  to  the  cause  of  Christ  j  that 
they  were  denying  themselves  in  giving  so  much  to  him 
instead  of  consuming  it  on  their  own  lusts,  when  they 
felt  they  were  gratifying  themselves  by  so  doing.  It 
would  have  been  difficult  to  convince  them  that  their 
interest  was  distinct  from  the  interest  of  Christ  j  or 
that  they  had  any  occasion  for  tears  while  his  kingdom 
was  prospering,  or  any  reason  to  exult  in  their  own 
secular  prosperity  if  it  did  not  subserve  the  advance- 
ment of  his  cause.  They  could  not  be  depressed ;  for 
their  Lord  had  arisen,  and  was  reigning  on  the  throne 
of  heaven.  At  that  thought,  they  not  only  rejoiced 
themselves,  they  called  on  the  universe  to  rejoice  with 
them  ;  for  they  saw,  in  his  exaltation,  the  pledge  of  the 
world's  salvation,  and  of  an  eternity  of  happiness  with 
him  in  heaven.  What,  to  them,  were  a  few  intervening 
days  of  trial  and  pain  1  They  thought  not  of  such 
things !  What,  to  them,  was  a  question  of  property, 
whether  much  or  little  \  Not  worth  the  price  of  a 
thought !  If  they  had  it,  they  gave  it  to  that  service 
to  which  they  had  given  themselves.  If  they  had  it 
not,  they  did  not  for  a  moment  speak  of  it  as  a  want^ 
or  think  of  asking  the  cause  of  the  world's  salvation  to 
stand  still  while  they  were  engaged  in  a  scramble  with 
the  world  to  obtain  it.  The  vision  of  heaven  was  in 
their  eye  ;  and,  until  they  reached  it,  their  Lord  had 
engaged  to  provide  for  all  their  wants,  and  had  engaged 
to  do  this  solely  that  they  might  give  their  undivided 
attention  to  his  service.  Of  doubts  and  fears  about 
their  personal  interest  in  his  love,  they  appear  to  have 
known  nothing;  that  is  a  disease  peculiar  to  the  morbid 
and  selfish  piety  of  modern  days.  The  element  of  ac- 
tivity and  benevolence  in  which  they  lived,  secured  them 
against  such  a  malady,  and  produced  a  race  of  chris- 
tians, vigorous,  holy,  and  happy. 
VOL.  X  n5 


46  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY 

And  is  it  from  such,  christian,  that  you  profess  to 
have  descended  \  do  you  claim  relationship  to  them  1 
profess  to  represent  them  1  Bending  from  their  seats  of 
blessedness  above,  they  urge,  they  beseech  you  to  cast 
off  the  worldly  spirit  in  which  you  have  hitherto  indul- 
ged, and  to  take  up  their  fallen  mantle.  They  entreat 
you  no  longer  to  disgrace  their  name,  nor  the  infinitely 
dearer  name  of  Christ  5  to  renounce  it  at  once  as  the 
greatest  homage  you  can  pay  to  it,  or  else  to  follow 
them  as  far  as  they  followed  Christ.  They  all  expect 
this  from  you  ;  they  will  demand  it  at  your  hands  when 
you  meet  them  at  the  bar  of  God. 

The  promises  and  pi'ospeds  of  prophecy  invite  it.  Muse 
on  the  prophetic  paintings  of  the  latter-day  glory,  that 
day  without  a  cloud  ;  the  enemies  of  man  subdued,  the 
disorders  of  the  world  hushed,  all  its  great  miseries  pass- 
ed away.  Christ  on  his  throne,  in  the  midst  of  a  redeem- 
ed, sanctified,  happy  creation.  All  things  sacred  to  his 
name  ;  all  tongues  rehearsing  for  the  last  great  chorus  of 
the  universe  ;  all  hearts  united  in  holy  love,  and  in  that 
love  offering  themselves  up  as  one  everlasting  sacrifice 
ascending  before  him  in  its  own  flames  ;  new  heavens,  and 
a  new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness.  And  is  it 
possible  that  your  agency  can  contribute  to  accelerate 
that  blessed  period  1  These  glimpses  of  its  glory  are 
afforded  you  expressly  to  engage  your  agency  in  its  be- 
half. Not  only  is  your  instrumentality  desirable — there 
is  a  sense  in  which  it  is  indispensable.  All  things  are 
waiting  for  it.  All  things  are  ready  but  the  church  of 
Christ ;  and  until  its  prayers,  its  wealth,  all  its  energies 
and  resources  are  laid  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  all  things 
must  continue  to  wait. 

O,  then,  by  the  mercies  of  God  ;  by  the  riches  of  his 
goodness  towards  you  in  nature,  providence,  and  grace  ; 
by  the  sacredness  of  the  commands  which  he  has  laid 
upon  you  ;  by  a  legitimate  regard  for  your  own  well- 


UNFORCED.  47 

being- ;  and  by  the  credit  of  that  religion  whose  honor 
should  be  dearer  to  you  than  life, — we  beseech  you, 
christian,  to  dedicate  your  property  to  God.  By  the  love 
of  Christ ;  bj''  the  compassion  which  brought  him  from 
the  bosom  of  the  Father  ;  by  his  painful  self-denial  and 
deep  humiliation  ;  bj'^  his  obedience  unto  death,  even 
the  death  of  the  cross  j  0,  by  that  mystery  of  love 
which  led  him  to  become  poor  that  he  might  make  you 
eternally  rich — ask  yourself,  while  standing  at  the  cross, 
**  How  much  owest  thou  unto  thy  Lord  V  and  give  ac- 
cordingly By  the  tender  and  melting  considerations 
which  led  you  at  first  to  surrender  yourself  to  his  claims ; 
by  the  benevolent  purposes  which  God  had  in  view  in 
calling  you  to  a  knowledge  of  himself ;  and  by  the  deep 
and  holy  pleasure  to  be  found  in  imitating  his  divine  be- 
neficence,— look  on  your  property  as  the  Lord's,  and  give 
it  freely  to  his  glory.  By  the  cries  of  the  world  perish- 
ing in  ignorance  of  Christ ;  by  the  earnest  entreaties  of 
the  church  yearning  to  save  from  destruction,  but  want- 
ing your  aid  ;  as  you  profess  to  admire  the  unparalleled 
benevolence  of  the  first  christians,  and  to  be  actuated  by 
the  same  principles  ;  and  as  you  hope  to  behold  the 
consummation  of  your  Saviour's  glory  in  the  salvation 
of  the  world — we  entreat,  we  adjure  you  to  look  on  your 
property  as  given  you  by  God  to  be  employed  in  his  ser- 
vice, and  from  this  day  to  employ  it  accordingly.  He 
who  gave  his  only-begotten  Son  for  your  salvation, — 
he  who  redeemed  you  from  the  curse  of  the  law  by  being 
made  a  curse  for  you, — he  who  has  breathed  into  you 
the  breath  of  a  new  life,  and  is  preparing  you  for  hea- 
ven,— the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  unite  in 
urging  you  to  bring  forth  your  property  and  lay  it  upon 
the  altar  of  christian  sacrifice. 

And  now,  christian,  what  shall  be  the  practical  effect  of 
the  truths  which  have  been  made  to  pass  before  you  1 
Allow  me,  in  conclusion,  to  suggest  what  it  ought  to 


48  CHRISTIAN    LIBERALITY    ENFORCED, 

be  ;  and  may  God  the  Holy  Spirit  give  you  grace  to 
carry  it  into  practice. 

Have  you,  while  reading  the  preceding  pages,  felt  a 
single  emotion  of  benevolence  warm  and  expand  your 
heart  ]  Instantly  gratify  it.  Let  it  not  pass  from  you  in 
an  empty  wish  ]  but  immediately  bring  forth  something 
to  be  appropriated  to  his  glory. 

Is  your  benevolence  destitute  of  plan  1  Then,  unless 
you  can  gainsay  what  we  have  advanced  on  the  neces- 
sity of  system^  lose  no  time  in  devising  one. 

Are  you  a  stranger  to  self-denial  in  the  cause  of  chari- 
ty 1  Then,  remember  that  benevolence,  with  you,  has 
yet  to  be  begun  ;  for,  on  christian  principles,  there  is  no 
benevolence  without  self-denial. 

Here,  then,  is  aii  object  to  take  you  at  once  to  the  throne 
of  grace.  0,  christian,  let  it  lead  you  to  pour  out  your 
soul  in  prayer  before  God.  Confess  that  selfishness  by 
which  you  have  hitherto  absorbed  so  much  of  that  pro- 
perty in  worldly  indulgences,  which  ought  to  have  been 
spent  in  his  service.  Ask  him  for  the  grace  of  self-de- 
nial ;  that  your  offerings  may  henceforth  bear  a  propor- 
tion to  the  magnitude  of  his  claims.  Beseech  him  to 
pour  out  his  Holy  Spirit  upon  you  and  upon  all  his  peo- 
ple, as  a  spirit  of  christian  liberality,  that  "  Holiness  to 
the  Lord  "  may  soon  be  inscribed  on  all  the  property 
of  his  church.  "  He  who  soweth  sparingly  shall  reap 
also  sparingly  ;  and  he  who  soweth  bountifully  shall  reap 
also  bountifully.    And  God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver." 

THE    END. 


IVo.  305. 


THE 


EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS; 


OR, 


THE   DESTITUTION   AND   WRETCHEDNESS 


OF 


A  DRUNKARD. 


"TA^^  ''^'ts  %.*- 


"  It  is  a  sorrowful  heart,"  said  I  to  myself,  as  I  raked 
over  the  dying  embers  upon  the  hearth  to  throw  a  transient 
gleam  of  light  over  my  dreary  cottage — "  It  is  a  sorrowfid 
heart  that  never  rejoices ;  and  though  I  am  somewhat  in 
debt  at  the  Blue  Moon,  and  the  landlady  of  the  Stag  has 
over  and  over  again  said  she'd  never  trust  me,  still  she  has 
not  yet  refused  me,  only  at  first.  Many's  the  shilling  I  have 
paid  them  both,  to  be  sure,"  said  I,  rising  involuntarily  and 
going  to  the  cupboard  :  "I  had  better  take  a  mouthful  before 
I  go  out,  for  it's  no  use  to  wait  any  longer  for  Mary's  return." 
VOL.  X.  '60"^ 


2  THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS. 

Just  at  this  moment  the  eldest  of  my  two  children  in- 
quired in  a  piteous  tone,  "if  that  was  mother."  "Your 
mother?  no,"  said  I;  "and  what  if  it  was,  what  then?" 
"  Because,  father,"  continued  the  child,  "  I  thought  per- 
haps she  had  brought  a  loaf  of  bread  home,  for  I  am  so 
hungry."  "Hungry,  child,"  said  I;  "then  why  did  you 
not  ask  me  before  you  went  to  bed  ?"  "  Because,  father,  I 
knew  there  was  no  bread.  When  mother  sent  me  to  get  a 
loaf  this  morning  at  the  grocer's,  Mrs.  Mason  said  our  last 
month's  bill  had  not  yet  been  settled,  and  she  could  not 
trust  any  more ;  and  so  we  have  only  had  a  few  potatoes. 
When  mother  went  out  to  look  for  work,  she  promised  to 
bring  a  loaf  home  very  early."  "Why,  Jane,"  said  I, 
"  this  is  a  new  story — what,  is  there  nothing  at  all  in  the 
house  ?"  "  No,  father,  nothing  ;  and  that  is  not  all,  father ; 
mother  cried  this  morning  about  it  when  she  went  out ;  and 
though  she  never  uses  bad  words,  said  something  about 
cursed  drink :  she  said  she  should  be  back  before  dark, 
and  it  has  now  been  dark  a  long  tim^e,  and  hark,  how  it 
rains." 

The  fire  flickered  up  a  little,  and  at  this  moment  the 
latch  of  the  door  clicked  ;  I  peeped  up  through  the  gloom, 
a  pang  of  conscious  shame  stealing  through  my  frame ;  but 
it  was  not  my  wife,  as  I  of  course  supposed — it  was  Mrs, 
Mason.  I  was  surprised  and  confused.  "  Where  is  your 
wife,  James  ?"  said  she,  in  a  mild,  firm  tone.  "  Is  that 
mother  ?"  said  my  child  again,  in  a  rather  sleepy  tone ;  "I 
am  so  glad  you  are  come,  I  am  so  hungry."  "  That  child," 
said  I,  "  has  gone  to  bed  without  her  supper  to-night," 
fumbling  about  at  the  same  time  upon  the  mantel-piece  for 
a  bit  of  candle,  which  I  could  not  find.  "  Yes,"  said  Mrs. 
Mason,  very  gravely,  "  and  without  its  dinner  too,  I  fear ; 
but  where  is  your  wife,  James  ?  for  I  am  come  to  see 
whether  she  brought  any  thing  home  with  her  for  herself 
and  family ;  for  I  could  not  feel  comfortable  after  I  had 
refused  your  child  a  loaf  this  morning,  just  as  I  know  the 


THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS.  3 

refusal  was."  I  now  stammered  out  something  about 
**  sorry,"  and  "ashamed,"  and  "bad  times."  "But  where 
is  your  wife,  James  ?"  "  She  is,  perhaps,  at  neighbor 
Wright's,"  said  I,  briskly,  glad  to  catch  an  opportunity  of 
a  minute's  retreat  from  my  present  awkward  position ;  "  I'll 
just  step  and  see.  Jane,  get  up,  child."  "  No,  James," 
said  Mrs.  Mason,  in  a  tone  not  to  be  misunderstood ;  "  no, 
James,  I  wish  she  was  sitting  by  their  comfortable  fireside ; 
I  called  in  there  just  now,  as  I  came  along,  to  pay  a  little 
bill,  and  they  spoke  very  kindly  of  your  wife,  and  hoped  she 
might  be  enabled  to  rub  through  this  winter — but  I  will 
call  again  in  half  an  hour :  Mary  will  have  come  home,  I 
hope,  by  that  time." 

The  door  closed  upon  her,  and  I  remained  in  a  kind  of 
half  stupor ;  my  month's  unpaid  bill,  my  public-house 
scores,  my  destitute  home ;  these  and  a  thousand  things 
connected  with  my  situation,  kept  me  musing  in  no  very 
comfortable  frame  of  mind,  when  the  latch  again  clicked, 
the  door  opened,  and  through  the  half  gleam  of  one  flick- 
ering flame,  I  just  caught  the  glimpse  of  a  form,  that  in  the 
next  instant,  cold  and  wet,  sunk  lifeless  in  my  arms.  It 
was  Mary.  As  she  sunk  down  upon  me,  she  just  said,  with 
a  shudder,  "Cold."  Shall  I  stop  to  tell  you  of  the  agony 
of  my  mind  ?  Shall  I  endeavor  to  relate  a  portion  of  the 
thoughts  that  chased  each  other  with  a  comet's  rapidity 
through  my  brain ;  the  remembrance  of  our  past  comforts, 
and  our  happiness  too  ?  Recovering  after  the  lapse  of  an 
instant,  I  called,  "  Jane,  Jane,  get  up,  and  make  haste ; 
your  mother  is  come  home,  and  is  very  ill  and  faint ;  get  a 
light" — she  was  quickly  at  my  side — "get  a  light,"  for  the 
little  unfriendly  flame  had  ceased  to  burn. 

"But  where  are  you,  mother?"  said  Jane.  "Jane, 
child,"  said  I,  angrily,  "your  mother  is  here;  get  alight 
directly."  "  We  haven't  a  bit  of  candle,  father."  "  Then 
cret  some  wood  out  of  the  back  room — break  up  some  little 
Ijits — 0,  do  make  haste."     "We  haven't  a  bit  of  wood. 


4  THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS. 

father."  "  Child,  child—"  "  Yes,  father,  but  we  haven't 
any."  My  poor  wife  at  this  moment  gave  a  kind  of  sob, 
and  with  a  slight  struggle,  as  if  for  breath,  sunk  heavier  in 
my  arms.  I  tried  to  hold  her  up  in  an  easier  posture,  call- 
ing to  her  in  a  tender  manner,  "  Mary,  my  dear  Mary  ;"  but 
my  sensations  and  my  conscience  almost  choked  me.  In 
this  moment  of  anguish  and  perplexity,  my  wife,  for  aught 
I  knew,  dead  in  my  arms — without  light,  without  fuel,  with- 
out food,  without  credit,  Mrs.  Mason  returned.  Jane  had 
managed  to  make  the  fire  burn  up,  just  so  as  to  disclose  our 
wretched  situation.  "  Your  wife  ill  ?"  said  Mrs.  Mason, 
hastily  stepping  forward — "  very  ill,  I  fear,  James,  and  wet 
and  cold — run  hastily,  James,"  reaching  herself  a  broken 
chair,  "  and  call  in  Mrs.  Wright,  and  place  your  wife  on  my 
lap."  This  I  immediately  did,  and  as  I  opened  the  door  to 
go  out,  I  heard  Mrs;  Mason  ask  Jane  to  get  a  light — and 
shame  made  me  secretly  rejoice,  that  I  had  escaped  the 
humiliation,  for  the  present,  of  confessing  that  we  had  not 
even  a  bit  of  a  candle  in  the  house. 

Mrs.  Wright  was  preparing  for  supper :  they  were  reg  ■ 
ular  and  early  folks,  and  my  heart  sunk  within  me  Avhen,  in 
my  hurry,  I  unceremoniously  opened  the  door — I  mean  the 
contrast  I  saw  between  their  cottage  and  my  own  ;  a  clean 
cloth  was  laid,  with  spoons,  and  basins,  and  white,  clean 
plates,  and  knives  and  forks,  with  every  other  necessary 
comfort.  Wright  was  sitting  with  his  back  towards  the 
fire,  with  a  candle  in  one  hand  and  a  book  in  the  other, 
reading  to  his  wife,  who  was  leaning  forward,  and  just  in 
the  act  of  taking  a  pot  off  the  hanger,  in  which  it  would  be 
easy  to  guess,  was  something  warm  for  supper.  The  fire 
and  candle  gave  a  cheerful  light,  and  every  thing  looked 
"comfortable."  "My  wife  is  taken  very  ill,"  said  I,  "and 
Mrs.  Mason,  who  has  just  stepped  in,  begged  me  to  call  in 
your  help."  "  Mrs.  Mason  at  your  house  now  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Wright ;  "  come,  Wright,  reach  me  my  cloak,  and  let  us 
make  haste  and  go."     We  were  all  at  the  door,  when  Mrs. 


THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS.  5 

Wright  said,  "  What,  come  to  fetch  us  without  a  lantern  ? 
and  ours  is  at  the  glazier's.  What  are  we  to  do?"  "The 
distance  is  very  short,"  I  said.  "  Yes,"  said  Wright,  "  but 
long  enough  for  an  accident ;  how  I  do  like  necessaries ;" 
adding,  in  an  undertone,  as  he  pulled  his  wife  along,  some- 
thing about  "  enough  for  tavern  debts,  but  nothing  to  buy 
necessaries.''* 

On  opening  my  cottage  door,  I  called  out — for  no  one 
was  in  the  room — "  Mrs.  Mason,  are  you  up  stairs  ?  how  is 
Mary  ?  here  is  Mrs.  Wright ;  shall  I  come  up  ?"  No  one 
answered,  and  Mrs.  Wright  passed  me,  going  softly  up 
stairs,  saying,  in  a  low  tone,  as  she  ascended,  "  James,  you 
had  better  make  up  a  good  fire,  and  get  some  water  heated 
as  fast  as  you  can."  Again  I  was  aghast.  "  Get  some 
water  heated,"  said  I ;  and  the  wretchedness  of  our  bedless 
bed  and  furnitureless  room  crossed  my  mind  at  the  same 
time.  Mrs.  Mason,  at  this  moment,  leaned  over  the  banis- 
ters, and  said,  in  a  soft  voice,  "  James,  fetch  the  doctor,  and 
lose  no  time ;  make  haste,  for  life  may  depend  on  it."  My 
wretchedness  seemed  now  complete ;  the  very  fire  of  delir- 
ium and  confusion  seemed  to  seize  upon  my  brain ;  and 
hastily  calling  out  to  Jane  to  attend  upon  Mr.  Wright,  I 
snatched  up  my  hat,  and  pushed  by  my  neighbor  without 
heeding  some  inquiries  he  had  begun  about  the  necessaries 
that^were  then  so  much  required. 

It  rained,  and  was  very  dark ;  the  road  to  the  doctor's 
was  not  the  best,  and  he  hved  rather  more  than  a  mile  off; 
it  was  impossible  to  proceed  faster  than  a  slow,  cautious 
walk.  I  was  now  alone,  and,  in  much  bitterness  of  spirit, 
began  to  upbraid  myself,  and  those  companions  of  my  folly 
who  had  led  me  on  to  habits  that  had  first  disgraced,  and 
then  brought  me  to  severe  ruin.  With  what  vivid  bright- 
ness did  the  first  vear  of  our  marriao-e,  its  comforts  and  its 
hopes,  again  pass  before  me  ;  and  when  my  mind  led  me  on 
through  all  its  changing  scenes,  up  to  the  moment  when 
Mrs.  Mason,  in  her  low,  subdued  tone  of  voice,  called  to  me 


6  THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS. 

to  fetch  the  doctor,  and  to  mind  I  lost  no  time ;  I  could 
only  realize  my  Avife  as  dying,  and  myself  the  cruel  tyrant 
who  had,  by  neglect,  ill  usage,  and  partial  starvation, 
brought  her  to  an  untimely  end. 

When  I  entered  the  doctor's  house,  "  Is  that  you,  James 
King?"  said  he,  sharply;  "do  you  want  me?"  "Yes, 
sir,"  said  I ;  "  my  wife  is  very  ill,  and  Mrs.  Mason,  who 
called  in  just  at  the  time  she  was  taken,  desired  me  to  come 
and  to  request  your  attendance  upon  her.  I  am  afraid,  sir, 
it  is  no  little  affair."  "  Mrs.  Mason,  Mrs.  Mason,"  said  the 
doctor  ;  "  I  am  inclined  to  think  Mrs.  Mason  has  better  drugs 
in  her  shop  for  your  wife's  complaint,  than  my  shop  affords, 
and  I  expect  I  shall  have  to  tell  her  so."  I  hung  down  my 
head  with  shame  ;  I  understood  what  he  meant.  He  then 
moved  towards  the  door,  putting  on  his  greatcoat  as  he 
walked  along.  "  But  stop,"  said  he,  just  as  we  got  to  the 
outer  door,  "how  did  you  come — no  lantern?"  "I  can 
carry  your  lantern  before  you,  sir,"  said  I.  "Yes,"  said  he, 
"and  /may  bring  it  back."  "  But  I  will  return  with  you, 
sir  ;  my  wife  will  most  likely  want  some  medicine."  "  Yes, 
James,"  said  he,  "  and  if  she  does,  I  shall  want  the  money 
longer  still."  I  had  no  word  to  reply,  it  was  no  time  to 
begin  being  independent.  The  doctor's  large  glass  lantern 
was  brought,  and  our  journey  back  was  quickly  performed. 
I  should  have  thought  a  great  deal  of  giving  Is.  6d.  for 
such  a  lantern,  if  I  had  really  required  just  such  an  one ; 
yet  I  had  paid  as  many  pounds  on  my  scores,  and  thought 
nothinof  at  all  about  it. 

On  getting  home,  I  found  that  somehow  it  had  been 
managed  to  make  up  a  good  fire,  and  the  tea-kettle  was 
boiling,  and  Mrs.  Mason  was  just  making  a  little  tea.  "  How 
is  Mary  ?"  said  I,  hardly  daring  to  look  Mrs.  Mason  in  the 
face.  "  Well,  Mrs.  Mason,"  said  the  doctor,  "  pray  what 
is  the  matter?"  and  as  the  doctor  spoke,  Mrs.  Mason  took 
up  the  jug  of  tea  she  had  made,  conversed  with  the  doctor 
in  an  undertone  for  half  a  minute,  and  both  walked  up 


THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS.  7 

stairs,  leaving  me  again  to  reflection,  in  fact,  taking  no  no- 
tice of  me.  I  sunk  down  heavily  upon  the  chair  that  was 
beside  the  fire,  in  a  state  of  exhaustion,  and  while  I  was 
wondering  where  all  this  would  end,  was  aroused  by  the 
cry  of  "  James,  James,  the  doctor  says  your  wife  must  put 
her  feet  into  warm  water  ;  so  bring  up  some  directly,  James, 
in  a  large  pan  or  bucket,  or  any  thing  that  is  handy ;  pray, 
make  haste ;"  and  before  I  could  reply,  for  I  doubted 
whether  there  was  either,  the  door  was  shut,  and  again  I 
was  placed  in  a  new  difficulty.  However,  I  found  an  old 
leaky  pail  and  an  old  broken  pan ;  so  I  set  the  pail  into  the 
pan  to  catch  the  leakage,  and  together,  they  did  tolerably 
well ;  but  I  felt  considerable  shame  as  I  handed  this  lum- 
bering affair  up  stairs,  well  knowing  it  would  call  forth 
some  remark. 

I  had  just  again  seated  myself  at  the  fire,  when  the 
doctor,  in  no  very  gentle  tone,  called  out,  "  James,  here, 
man,  take  this  paper  to  my  office  ;  Mr.  Armstrong  will  give 
you  some  physic  for  your  wife,  and  then  it  will  be  twice 
given,  for  I  suppose  you  will  never  pay  for  it."  I  stared 
at  him,  or  rather  paused  and  hesitated — who  could  tell 
why  ?  was  it  the  taunts  I  was  thus  obliged  to  endure ;  or 
was  it  bodily  exhaustion?  I  had  eaten  all  the  food  my 
poor  Mary  had  put  into  my  basket  for  my  breakfast ;  and, 
as  it  appeared,  all  she  had  in  the  world  ;  yet  I  had  managed 
to  borrow  sixpence  at  noon,  intending  to  buy  me  a  loaf  and 
cheese,  and  half  a  pint  of  beer  for  my  dinner;  but  ventur- 
ing upon  half  a  pint  of  beer  first,  I  called  for  another ;  and, 
becoming  thirsty,  for  a  pint ;  and  so  my  dinner  and  my 
afternoon's  work  were  both  lost  together.  It  must  now 
have  been  nearly  ten  o'clock,  and  I  had  tasted  no  food,  as 
I  said  before,  since  breakfast.  I  felt  faint,  and  well  I  might ; 
however,  Avith  a  heavy  step  and  a  heavier  heart,  taking  up 
the  doctor's  lantern,  and  looking  round  upon  the  empty 
wretchedness  before  me,  I  again  set  out  for  the  doctor's. 
And  did  I  not  also  think  over  neighbor  Wright's  comforta- 


8  THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS. 

ble,  cheerful  room,  and  his  boiling  pot ;  while  I,  who  had 
that  day  spent  a  borrowed  sixpence  upon  beer,  had  not 
even  a  crust  of  bread  for  myself  or  family  ?  And  did  I 
forget  the  pence,  and  then  the  shillings,  and  then  the 
pounds  I  had  paid  at  public-houses ;  selling,  and  pawning 
my  bed  from  under  me,  and  my  clothes  from  off  my  back, 
and  all  to  gain  misery  and  want,  and  lose  my  good 
name  ? 

Mr.  Armstrong  was  a  kind-hearted  young  man,  and  soon 
prepared  the  medicines,  and  by  kind  and  cheerful  hopes 
concerning  my  poor  Mary,  and  a  little  civil  conversation, 
raised  my  spirits,  and  I  walked  back  somewhat  lighter  of 
heart ;  but  I  was  thoroughly  wet,  and  the  cold  rain  pierced 
my  very  marrow,  for  I  was  wearing  summer  clothing  in  the 
winter  season — I  had  no  other.  Cold  and  wet,  exhausted 
and  miserable,  I  once  more  lifted  the  latch  of  my  own  cot- 
tage door.  The  candle  was  dimly  burning.  My  fears  arose, 
and  my  heart  sunk  within  me  :  "  Is  Mary  worse  ?"  said  I. 
*'  She  is  no  better,"  said  Mr.  Wright,  who  was  sitting  over 
the  dying  embers — *'  no  better — heavy  work,  James." 

I  placed  the  medicine  upon  the  table,  and  sat  down, 
exhausted  and  wretched.  Whose  situation  so  low,  could 
he  have  known  all,  that  would  not  have  pitied  me  ?  Wright 
rose,  and  carried  the  medicines  up  stairs ;  and  in  another 
minute  all  was  the  stillness  of  death.  I  could  have  borne 
any  thing  but  this — at  least  I  so  felt — but  under  this  op- 
pressive stillness,  my  feelings  gave  way  in  torrents  of  tears, 
and  every  moment  brought  a  fresh  accusation  against  my- 
self for  my  past  doings ;  and  again  I  looked  around  me,  as 
well  as  my  tearful  eyes  and  dimly-lighted  room  would  allow, 
and  contrasted  all  with  John  Wright's.  ''  So  comfortable," 
said  I,  involuntarily.  Indistinct  sounds  and  cautious  step- 
pings  were  now  heard  above ;  and  while  I  was  raising  my- 
self up  to  listen,  in  order  to  catch,  if  possible,  something 
that  would  acquaint  me  with  the  state  of  my  poor  Mary, 
the  bedroom  door  opened,  and  down  came  Wright  and  his 


THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS.  9 

wife,  the  latter  carefully  lighting  the  doctor,  Mrs.  Mason 
being  close  behind  him.  I  tried  to  recover  myself  a  little, 
and  to  assume  something  like  the  appearance  of  courage ; 
and  in  a  half-choked,  coughing  voice,  said,  "  How  is  my 
poor  wife,  sir  ?"  The  doctor,  with  a  severity  of  manner, 
and  imitating  my  manner  of  speaking,  replied,  "  You  should 
have  coughed  sooner,  James ;"  then  turning  to  Mrs.  Mason, 
said,  "Remember,  quiet  is  the  best  medicine  noiv ;  indeed, 
it  is  food  and  medicine  in  her  present  state ;  don't  teaze  her 
about  any  thing ;  at  half  past,  mind — and  again  at  twelve, 
until  the  pain  subsides,  when  sleep  will  follow." 

I  shrunk  back  at  the  words  "  half  past,"  which  reminded 
me  that  I  had  not  even  a  twenty-shilling  clock  in  the  house. 

"James,"  said  the  doctor,  "have  you  no  time  in  the 
house?"  "No,  I  suppose  not,"  he  answered  himself. 
"  Well,  then,  you  must  guess  at  it ;  oh  dear,  bad  work 
indeed.  Come,  James,  put  that  bit  of  candle  into  the  lan- 
tern ;  I  hope  it  does  not  rain  now." 

Wright  opened  the  door,  and  I  walked  out  with  the 
lantern,  the  doctor  following,  and,  buttoning  his  coat 
closely  round  him,  remarked  upon  the  darkness  of  the 
night.  I  walked  on  with  an  unsteady  step,  feeling  as  if 
every  yard  of  ground  I  strode  over  would  be  the  last. 
But,  urged  on  by  my  situation,  I  reached  the  doctor's 
house  without  any  remark  from  him  upon  my  wearied 
step,  and  pulled  his  bell  in  rather  a  hasty  manner. 

"  You  are  in  a  hurry,  James,"  said  he,  "  you  forget  the 
time  of  night ;  a  gentle  pull  would  have  waked  the  attend- 
ant without  disturbing  my  family.  My  family  are  very 
regular,  James,  and  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  disturb  them 
when  it  can  be  avoided ;  perhaps  you  think  such  things  of 
no  consequence :  regularity,  James,  and  sobriety,  are  two 
very  principal  things  in  a  family." 

By  this  time  the  attendant  appeared,  and,  giving  him 
the  lantern  and  thanking  the  doctor  for  his  kind  attention, 
I  left  the  door  to  return  home.     The  door  closed,  and  my 

VOL.  X.  3f) 


10  THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS. 

situation  was  a  very  painful  one  ;  the  sudden  change  from 
light  to. utter  darkness  obliged  me  to  stand  still  a  few  min- 
utes before  I  could  venture  to  move,  but  a  world  of  sensa- 
tions ran  through  my  mind,  and  distracted  me  more  than 
ever ;  the  weakness  of  my  body  prevented  my  checking  its 
sensations  ;  and,  could  I  have  weighed  in  the  balance  of 
reason,  to  say  nothing  of  religion,  at  this  moment,  all  foolish, 
sinful  pleasures — falsely  so  called — of  drinking,  with  the 
distress  of  mind  and  weariness  of  body  I  then  endured,  and 
had  endured  on  this  one  single  night,  how  light  would  they 
have  seemed.  Yes,  even  if  I  had  not  included  the  loss  of 
positive  property  and  health. 

Once  again,  then,  I  reached  my  home.  All  was  still ; 
but  soon  Mrs.  Mason  came  down.  Before  I  could  speak, 
she  said,  "  Mary  is  better,  James  ;  she  has  fallen  into  a  nice 
sleep."  She  spoke  kindly,  and  looked  kindly.  I  tried  to 
answer  her,  but  my  feelings  choked  me ;  and  seeing  my 
effort  to  suppress  them,  she  continued,  "  God  has  dealt 
very  mercifully,  James,  towards  you,  in  so  blessing  the 
means  that  have  been  used  ;  but  you  have  had  no  supper ; 
you  will  find  some  nice  warm  soup  by  the  side  of  the  fire 
there  ;  Mrs.  Wright  sent  it  in  for  you,  by  her  husband, 
when  she  returned  home  :  come,  James,  eat  it  while  it  is 
warm,  it  will  do  you  good ;  your  little  girl  and  boy  have 
both  had  some,  and  they  are  now  warm  in  bed  and  fast 
asleep." 

*'Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wright  are  very  kind,"  I  added,  "and 
you  are  kind ;  what  should  I  have  done  but  for  you  and 
them?" 

"Done,  James?"  said  she  mildly  ;  "  done,  James  ?  see 
how  God  orders  his  dispensations ;  '  in  the  midst  of  wrath 
he  remembers  mercy,'  and  I  trust  he  has  purposes  of  mercy 
in  this  event  towards  you  and  your  family  ;  but  beware, 
James,  for  the  Bible  expressly  says,  '  My  son,  despise  not 
the  chastening  of  the  Lord ;'  and  again,  '  whom  the  Lord 
loveth,  he  chasteneth.'     But  eat  your  supper;  I  will  step 


THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS.  H 

up  stairs  and  see  if  your  wife  is  still  sleeping,  and  if  she  is, 
I  will  come  down  and  chat  a  little  with  you." 

As  she  went  softly  up  stairs  my  eyes  followed  her,  and 
I  said  to  myself,  This  is  one  of  your  religious  ones,  is  it,  that 
I  have  so  often  joined  in  jeering  at  ?  Surely  I  ate  my  sup- 
per with  a  thankful  heart,  and  was  much  strengthened  by 
it.  Mrs.  Mason  soon  returned,  and  stepping  into  the  back 
room,  where  Jane  lay,  and  her  little  brother,  brought  out 
three  or  four  billets  of  wood,  and  a  cheerful  fire  was  soon 
made  ;  so  that  with  my  warm,  nourishing  supper,  the  cheer- 
ful fire,  and  Mrs.  Mason's  mild  and  cheerful  countenance 
and  manner,  I  regained  my  spirits,  and  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  my  strength.     After  a  little  pause,  she  said, 

"  James,  when  Mary  recovers,  if  it  should  please  God 
to  order  it  so,  great  care  will  be  required  lest  she  should 
relapse.  You  would  not  wish  to  lose  her,  James  ;  she  has, 
I  believe,  been  a  kind  and  affectionate  wife  to  you,  and  a 
tender  mother  to  your  children.  When  you  were  first  mar- 
ried every  thing  went  ■well  with  you,  and  it  was  a  remark  I 
often  made  of  you  as  a  neighbor,  that  you  wanted  nothing 
but  the  true  fear  of  God  in  your  heart,  and  faith  in  our 
blessed  Saviour,  to  make  you  a  pattern  to  all  around  you. 
I  used  often  to  say  a  few  words  to  Mary,  and  she  always 
received  them  meekly,  but  I  seldom  saw  you,  and  your 
manner  never  gave  me  any  encouragement  to  talk  to  you  on 
religious  subjects.  James,  experience  has  enabled  me  to 
make  one  remark,  that  absence  from  divine  loorship,  as  a 
regular  or  customary  thing,  is  an  almost  unerring  sign  of 
the  absence  of  religion  from  the  heart ;  and  it  is  indeed 
seldom  that  I  have  seen  you  in  your  place  on  the  Sabbath- 
day.  The  Sabbath  is  a  blessed  day  when  it  is  spent  aright.'* 
So  leaving  me,  she  again  went  up  stairs,  remarking  that 
Mr.  Wright  had  been  home  to  her  house,  to  explain  the 
cause  of  her  absence,  (and  as  I  tolerably  well  guessed,  this 
partly  explained  the  mystery  of  fire  and  candle,  and  tea  and 
sugar,  and  bread,)  adding,  ''  Mrs.  Wright  will  come  in  at 


12  THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS. 

daylight,  and  will  stay  with  Mary,  and  that  will  allow  me 
to  attend  to  my  morning's  business :  you  know,  James,  the 
Bible  says,  'diligent  in  business,  fervent  in  spirit,  serving 
the  Lord.'  " 

I  longed  to  go  and  see  my  poor  Mary,  but  I  was  not 
asked,  and  I  supposed  it  right  that  it  should  be  so.  I  now 
thought  of  ray  poor  children ;  and  going  into  their  room,  I 
felt  distressed  to  find  them  so  badly  provided  with  bed- 
clothes. I  kissed  them,  and  secretly  prayed,  in  a  kind  of 
way,  that  I  might  be  spared  to  care  more  for  them  than  I 
had  lately  done.  I  sat  down,  and  began  to  reflect  upon  all 
the  circumstances  of  the  past  day,  and  of  this  eventful  night ; 
but  I  soon  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  which  continued  until 
Mrs.  Mason  awoke  me,  informing  me  that  it  was  nearly 
daylight,  and  reminded  me  of  her  intentions  to  return  home 
to  her  duties  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Wrio^ht  should  arrive.  "And 
why  wait  for  Mrs.  Wright,  madam  ?"  said  I ;  "  surely  I  can 
attend  upon  Mary  now,  or  at  least  until  Mrs.  Wright  does 
come."  "  It  is  very  natural,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  "  that  you 
should  desire  to  attend  upon  your  wife,  and  think  yourself 
capable  of  doing  so  ;  but  my  most  particular  directions  from 
the  doctor  were,  not  to  allow  you  to  see  your  wife,  if  I  could 
prevent  you,  until  he  had  seen  her  once  more ;  and  you  may 
remember,  James,  in  how  grave  a  manner  he  directed  she 
might  not  in  any  way  be  teazed,  nor — but,  James,  to  deal 
honestly  with  you,  and  rightly  as  I  consider  it,  whatever 
may  be  your  future  conduct  to  your  wife,  your  behavior  to 
her  for  these  last  three  years  has  not  been  quite  kind  ;  and 
as  grief  and  depression  have  very  much  to  do  with  her  pres- 
ent illness,  we  are  all  of  opinion  that  you  had  better  refrain 
from  going  to  see  her  until  she  is  more  composed.  You 
have  bruised,  James  ;  seek  now  to  heal." 

I  was  touched  with  the  reproof;  I  was,  perhaps,  more 
touched  by  the  manner.  Mrs.  Mason  was  one  who  sought 
to  win  souls  :  she  won  my  esteem  and  confidence,  and  I 
felt  that  if  Mrs.  Mason  could  talk  to  me  thus,  I  had  still 


THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS.  13 

something  to  lose.  I  went  to  call  Mrs.  Wright.  On  my 
return,  Mrs.  Mason  was  up  stairs,  but  she  had  placed  nearly 
a  whole  loaf  and  a  piece  of  butter  on  the  table,  and  some 
tea  and  sugar,  and  the  kettle  was  singing  by  the  fireside. 
These  were  times  of  deep  thought  to  me.  On  Mrs.  Wright's 
arrival,  I  thanked  her  for  her  great  kindness,  and  hoped 
better  times  were  in  store.  "  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  better 
times  may  be  in  store  for  you ;  I  hope  they  are ;  you  have 
certainly  bought  your  corn  at  a  very  dear  market  lately, 
but  you  may  find  a  better  one  to  go  to  yet."  Mrs.  Mason 
now  appeared,  and  ready  to  go  home ;  the  morning  had 
just  fully  dawned.  "  Come,  James,"  said  she,  "you  must 
go  with  me ;  I  want  to  send  back  a  few  things  to  Mary ; 
and  mind,  you  must  not  leave  the  house  to-day  after  your 
return,  and  your  little  girl  ought  to  be  sent  to  account  for 
your  absence  from  work — that  is,  James,  if — " 
"  If,  madam  ?"  said  I  quickly  ;  "  if  what  ?" 
"  Yes,  James,  if  you  think  you  can  maintain  a  new  char- 
acter, and  desire  really  to  become  again,  what  I  well  remem- 
ber you  once  was,  a  respectable  man  ;  yes,  James,  a  respect- 
able man;  for  remember,  that  word  is  the  just  right  of 
every  man  who  acts  as  every  man  ought  to  do.  The  word 
seems  to  surprise  you :  it  is  a  sad  mistake  that  seems  in- 
sensibly to  have  crept  into  common  acceptance  in  these 
days,  that  respectability  must  mean  something  belonging 
rather  to  riches  and  rank,  than  honesty  and  uprightness  of 
character ;  respectability  is  as  much  the  birthright  of  your- 
self as  of  young  'squire  Mills ;  indeed,  I  may  say  that  on 
this  point,  you  both  started  in  life  exactly  equal :  his  father 
was  indeed  respectable  in  every  sense  of  the  word ;  and 
your  father  was  certainly  nothing  behind  him  ;  both  faith- 
fully discharged  the  duties  of  that  station  '  into  which  it 
pleased  God  to  call  them,'  and  this  I  consider,  from  the 
king  to  the  cottager,  is  to  be  respectable ;  but,  James,  the 
young  'squire  is  as  respectable  a  man,  I  am  happy  to  say, 
as  his  father  was,  and  why  should  not  you  become  as  re- 
voL.  X.  *  36=* 


14  THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS. 

spectable  as  yours  ?  I  have  lived  to  see  many  changes,  but 
the  change  I  most  mourn  over,  is  the  change  of  principle 
in  my  neighbors.  Their  respectability  seems  to  be  ex- 
changed for  finer  clothes  and  fewer  fireside,  fewer  home 
comforts ;  and  I  happen  also  to  know,  that  if  very  much  of 
the  grain  that  has  been  made  into  poisonous  beer  and  whis- 
key had  been  made  into  good  wholesome  bread,  both  you 
and  I,  James,  should  have  been  better  off,  I  think,  than  Ave 
are  now,  for  I  have  had  my  struggles  as  well  ^s  j^ou  ;  so 
have  many  others.  I  have  worked  early  and  late,  taking- 
care  of  the  2:)ence,  to  maintain  my  respectability  ;  yet,  let  me 
again  repeat  it,  your  father  and  mother  were  respectable  to 
the  day  of  their  death,  and  many  in  this  village  would  gladly 
see  their  only  child  following,  their  footsteps,  and  seeking 
the  same  inheritance  they  now  possess  '  in  mansions  in  the 
skies.'  But  the  road  leads  down  hill  to  vice  and  folly,  and 
I  might  add,  the  gulf  of  ruin  lies  at  the  bottom ;  you  may 
be  far  down  it ;  I  fear  you  are,  yet  there  is  a  hand  that  even 
now  beckons  to  you,  and  says,  '  Turn,  turn,  I  have  no  pleas- 
ure in  the  death  of  him  that  dieth  ;  wherefore  turn  and  live  :* 
but,  James,  you  are  not  ignorant  of  your  Bible." 

I  tried  to  conceal  my  emotions,  for  it  was  a  very  long 
time  since  I  had  heard  such  words  as  these.  My  Bible  and 
the  house  of  God  had  been  lono^  entirelv  neo^lected.  Mrs. 
Mason  perceived  that  I  was  affected,  and  moving  towards 
the  door,  said,  *'  Yes,  James,  it  is  a  slippery,  down-hill  path 
that  leads  to  ruin,  and  many  there  be  that  walk  therein. 
Heaven  may  be  said  to  lie  upward,  yet  *  its  ways  are  ways 
of  pleasantness,  and  all  its  paths  are  peace.'  But  come,  it 
is  broad  daylight,  and  I  must  hasten  home." 

As  we  passed  neighbor  Wright's  cottage,  I  had  not  for- 
gotten the  comfort  that  was  within,  and  I  said  secretly,  "I'll 
see  what's  to  be  done."  The  arrival  of  Mrs.  Mason  at  home 
seemed  to  give  to  all  the  liveliest  pleasure  and  satisfaction ; 
and  their  inquiries  after  my  poor  wife  were  made  with  a 
kindliness  of  manner  that  surprised  me.     *'  They  respect 


THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS.  l5 

her,"  said  I  to  myself;  they  took  Httle  notice  of  me,  yet 
treated  me  with  more  civihty  than  I  had  a  right  to  expect. 
Mrs.  Mason  soon  put  up  a  few  little  things  and  directed  me 
to  give  them  to  Mrs.  Wright,  and  weighing  me  a  pound  of 
bacon,  and  putting  a  large  loaf  and  half  a  pound  of  cheese 
into  the  basket  Avith  it,  with  some  soap  and  candles,  said, 
"  I  shall  charge  these  to  your  bill,  James.  Patty,  go  into 
the  garden  and  cut  James  a  couple  of  nice  cabbages  ;  I  dare 
say  he  will  know  w^hat  to  do  with  them,"  Having  had  this 
unexpected  provision  made  me  for  the  day,  and  receiving 
parting  w^ords  of  encouragement  from  this  kind  friend,  I 
returned  home.  I  found  my  children  up  and  Avashed,  and 
breakfast  ready.  Mrs.  Wright  had  kindly  done  this.  Jane 
looked  cheerful,  and  my  little  Harry  came  edging  towards 
me,  as  if  he  did  not  know  Avhat  to  make  of  all  this. 
"  Mother's  so  ill,  Jane  says,  father — is  she  ;  is  she,  father  ?" 
looking  up  in  my  face  as  I  sat  down,  "is  she?" 

''  She  is  better  now,  my  boy,"  I  said. 

"  Better,  father  ?  who  made  her  ill  ?  you  didn't  make 
her  ill,  did  you,  father? — nice  bread,  father — did  mother 
bring  this  nice  bread  home,  father  ?  speak,  father,  you  don't 
speak." 

I  could  not  trust  myself  to  answer  ;  so  I  rose,  for  I  Avas 
much  affected  at  the  thouoht  that  Mrs.  Mason  had  cared 
for  these  babes  and  their  mother,  but  I  had  neglected 
them,  and  foolishly  squandered  aAvay  their  comforts  and 
e\'en  their  necessary  bread. 

Mrs.  Wright  Avent  home  ;  but  returned  soon  after  we 
had  finished  breakfast ;  and  by  the  time  I  had  put  things 
a  little  to  rights,  the  doctor  called.  His  **  Well,  James," 
filled  me  Avith  no  very  pleasing  sensations.  "  I  hope  Ave 
shall  have  a  change,  eh,  James  ?"  and  passing  on,  Avent  up 
stairs.  Ah,  thought  I,  I  hope  so  too,  for  I  knoAV  Avhat  you 
mean.  He  soon  came  down  ;  said  my  Avife  might  get  up  if 
she  liked,  taking  a  little  care,  and,  "  after  to-day,  give  her 
a  pill  every  noon  for  dinner  off  a  loin  of  mutton,  eh,  James  ? 


16  THE  EVENTFUL  TWELVE  HOURS. 

A  few  more  broiled  pills  for  her,  and  a  pint  less  of  liquor  for 
you,  and  your  old  father  and  mother  would  soon  come  to 
life  again.  Your  savings'  bank  is  at  the  tavern,  and  the 
landlady  of  the  Stag  keeps  your  accounts,  I  believe,  eh, 
James  ?  I  shall  charge  you  nothing  for  this."  This  was 
the  doctor.  I  received  his  reproofs  humbly,  and  certainly 
thought,  you  have  been  very  kind,  but  I  also  thought,  you 
are  not  Mrs.  Mason. 

Soon  after  this,  my  poor  Mary  came  down  stairs,  and  I 
at  once  confessed  my  sorrow  for  my  past  conduct,  and  my 
determination  to  drink  no  more ;  and,  to  conclude,  my  wife 
slowly  recovered,  and,  I  may  add,  I  recovered  also ;  but  I 
was  very  far  down  the  hill,  and  consequently  found  it  a  long 
and  hard  tug  to  get  up  again  ;  but  Mrs.  Mason  encouraged 
me,  Mrs.  Wright  helped  me,  the  doctor  cheered  me,  Mr. 
Armstrong  praised  me,  our  kind  minister  instructed  me,  my 
wife  assisted  me,  and,  as  a  crowning  point  of  all,  the  bless- 
ing of  God  rested  on  me.  I  worked  hard,  I  prayed  in  my 
family,  I  paid  my  debts,  I  clothed  my  children,  I  redeemed 
my  bed,  I  mended  my  windows,  I  planted  my  garden  and 
sold  garden  stuff,  instead  of  buying ;  I  bought  me  a  wheel- 
barrow, I  mended  my  chairs  and  table,  I  got  me  a  clock ; 
and  now  here  I  am,  but  never  shall  I  forget  John  Wright 
or  his  wife,  how  long  soever  I  may  remember  my  other 
kind  friends,  and  most  of  all,  Mrs.  Mason.  But  there  were 
no  temperance  societies  in  those  days,  or  I  think  I  should 
have  been  reclaimed  sooner. 


]¥o.  396. 

ARE   YOU 

A  SABBATH-SCHOOL  TEACHER? 

FROM  "NEVINS'  PRACTICAL  THOUGHTS," 


If  you  are,  you  are  engaged  in  a  good  work.  Yes,  it  is 
good,  both  as  acceptable  to  God,  and  as  profitable  to  men. 
It  is  good  in  its  direct  operation,  and  good  in  its  reflex 
action.  It  is  not  merely  teaching  the  young  idea  how  to 
shoot,  but,  what  is  still  more  important,  it  is  teaching  the 
young  and  tender  affection  what  to  fix  upon,  and  where  to 
entwine  itself.  NothiuG:  hallows  the  Sabbath  more  than  the 
benevolent  employment  of  the  Sabbath- school  teacher.  It 
is  more  than  lawful  to  do  such  good  on  the  Sabbath-day. 
It  has  great  reward.  Continue  to  be  a  Sabbath- school 
teacher.  Be  not  weary  in  this  well-doing.  Do  not  think 
you  have  served  long  enough  in  the  capacity  of  teacher, 
until  you  have  served  life  out,  or  until  there  shall  be  no 
need  of  one's  saying  to  another,  "Know  the  Lord."  What 
if  it  be  laborious?  It  is  the  labor  of  love,  in  the  very 
fatio'ue  of  which  the  soul  finds  refreshment. 

But  perhaps  you  are  not  a  Sabbath-school  teacher. 
"No,  I  am  not,"  methinks  I  hear  one  say;  "I  am  not  a 
professor  of  religion.  You  cannot  expect  me  to  be  a 
teacher."  You  ought  to  be  both,  and  your  not  being  the 
first  is  but  a  poor  apology  for  declining  to  be  the  other.  The 
neglect  of  one  obligation  is  a  poor  excuse  for  the  neglect  of 
another.  You  seem  to  admit,  that  if  you  professed  religion, 
it  would  be  your  duty  to  teach  in  the  Sabbath-school. 
Now,  whose  fault  is  it  that  you  do  not  profess  religion  ? 
But  I  see  no  valid  objection  to  your  teaching  a  class  of 
boys  or  girls  how  to  read  the  word  of  God,  though  you  be 
not  a  professor  of  religion.  I  cannot  think  that  any  person 
gets  harm  by  thus  doing  good.  Experience  has  shown  that 
the  business  of  teaching  in  the  Sabbath- school  is  twice 
blessed — blessing  the  teacher  as  well  as  the  taught. 


2         ARE  YOU  A  SABBATH-SCHOOL  TEACHER? 

"But  I  am  not  a  young  person."  And  what  if  you  are 
not  ?  You  need  not  be  very  young  in  order  to  be  a  useful 
Sabbath- school  teacher.  We  don't  want  mere  novices  in 
tlie  Sabbath-school.  If  you  are  not  young,  then  you  have 
so  much  more  experience  to  assist  you  in  the  work.  Do 
Sabbath-school  teachers  become  superannuated  so  much 
earlier  in  life  than  any  other  class  of  benefactors — so  much 
sooner  than  ministers  and  parents  ?  There  is  a  prevailing 
mistake  on  this  subject. 

But  you  are  "  married,"  you  say.  And  what  then? 
Because  you  have  married  a  wife  or  a  husband,  is  that  any 
reason  why  you  should  not  come  into  the  Sabbath-school  ? 
Many  people  think  that  as  soon  as  they  are  married,  they 
are  released  from  the  obligation  of  assisting  in  the  Sabbath- 
schooL  But  I  do  not  understand  this  to  be  one  of  the  im- 
munities of  matrimony.  As  well  might  they  plead  that  in 
discharge  of  the  obligation  to  every  species  of  doing  good. 
Such  might,  at  least,  postpone  this  apology  till  the  cares  of 
a  family  have  come  upon  them.  And  even  then,  perhaps, 
the  best  disposition  they  could  make  of  their  children  on 
the  Sabbath,  would  be  to  take  them  to  the  school.  I  wonder 
how  many  hours  of  the  Sabbath  are  devoted  to  the  instruc- 
tion of  their  children  by  those  parents  who  make  the  ne- 
cessity of  attending  to  the  religious  culture  of  their  families 
an  apology  for  not  entering  the  Sabbath-school ;  and  I 
wonder  if  their  children  could  not  be  attended  to  in  other 
hours  than  those  usually  occupied  in  Sabbath-school  in- 
struction ;  and  thus,  Avhile  they  are  not  neglected,  other 
children,  who  have  no  parents  that  care  for  their  souls, 
receive  a  portion  of  their  attention.  I  think  this  not  im- 
possible. But  perhaps  the  wife  pleads  that  she  is  no  longer 
her  own,  and  that  her  husband's  wishes  are  opposed  to  her 
continuing  a  teacher.  But  has  she  ceased  to  be  her  Lord's, 
by  becoming  her  husband's  ?  Does  the  husband  step  into 
all  the  rio'hts  of  a  Saviour  over  his  redeemed  ?     If  such  an 

o 

objection  is  honestly  made,  it  is  very  clear  that  she  has  not 
regarded  the  direction  to  marry  "  only  in  the  Lord." 

But  perhaps  you  say,  **  There  are  enough  others  to 
teach  in  the  Sabbath-school."  There  would  not  be  enough, 
there  would  not  be  any,  if  all  were  like  you.  But  it  is  a 
mistake ;  there  are  not  enough  others.  You  are  wanted. 
Some  five  or  six  children,  of  whom  Christ  has  said,  "  Suffer 


ARE  YOU  A  SABBATH-SCHOOL  TEACHER?         3 

them  to  come  to  me,"  may  grow  up  without  either  learning 
or  religion,  unless  you  become  a  teacher.  Are  all  the 
children  in  the  place  where  you  live  gathered  into  the  Sab- 
bath-school ?  Are  there  none  that  still  wander  on  the 
Lord's  day,  illiterate  and  irrehgious?  Is  there  a  compe- 
tent number  of  teachers  in  the  existing  schools,  so  that  more 
would  be  rather  in  the  way  than  otherwise  ?  I  do  not 
know  how  it  is  where  you  live,  but  where  I  live,  there  are 
boys  and  girls  enough,  aye,  too  man}^,  who  go  to  no  Sab- 
bath-school. It  is  only  for  a  teacher  to  go  out  on  the 
Sabbath,  and  he  readily  collects  a  class  of  children  willing 
to  attend  ;  and  where  I  reside,  there  are  not  teachers  enough 
for  the  scholars  already  collected.  Some  classes  are  with- 
out a  teacher ;  and  presently  the  children  stay  away,  be- 
cause, they  say,  they  come  to  the  school,  and  there  is  no 
one  to  attend  to  them.  He  who  said,  "Suffer  the  little 
children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not,"  knows 
this:  and  he  knows  who  of  "his  sacramental  host"  mio-ht 
take  charge  of  these  children,  and  do  not.  They  say  every 
communion  season,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?" 
and  the  Lord  replies,  "  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  to 
me,"  and  there  the  matter  ends. 

I  visited  recently  an  interesting  school,  composed  of 
colored  adults  and  children.  It  is  taught  partly  by  white 
persons,  and  partly  by  intelligent  colored  persons.  It  is 
languishing  now  for  want  of  teachers.  There  were  present 
some  twenty-five  or  thirty  females,  and  only  two  female 
teachers.  I  wondered  to  see  no  more  than  two  there,  espe- 
cially of  those  who  were  last  at  the  cross  and  first  at  the 
sepulchre. 

But  I  hear  one  say,  "  I  luas  once  a  teacher ;"  and  do  you 
not  blush  to  own  that  you  became  weary  in  this  species  of 
well-doing?  "But  I  think  I  taught  long  enough."  How 
long  did  you  teach  ?  Till  there  were  no  more  to  learn  ? 
Till  you  could  teach  no  longer  ?  Are  you  dead  ?  If  not, 
you  are  resting  from  your  labors  rather  prematurely.  This 
excuse  resembles  one  which  I  heard  of,  as  from  a  lady  of 
wealth,  who,  having  for  several  years  been  a  subscriber  to 
the  Bible  Society,  at  length  ordered  her  name  to  be  stricken 
off,  alleging  that  she  thought  she  had  done  her  part  towards 
disseminating  the  Bible.  The  world  was  not  supplied  ; 
0  no,  not  even  the  country ;  and  her  means  were  not  ex- 


2  DO  YOU  PRAY  IN  YOUR  FAMILY  ? 

SO  careful  to  instruct  liis  household  in  the  way  of  the  Lord, 
did  not.  neglect  to  pray  with  them.  And  David,  I  am 
quite  confident,  prayed  in  his  family.  It  is  said  of  him  on. 
one  occasion,  that  "he  returned  to  bless  his  household." 
No  doubt  there  were  both  prayer  and  praise  in  that  family. 
Certainly  Joshua  must  have  prayed  in  his  house.  How 
otherwise  could  he  have  fulfilled  his  resolution,  that  his 
house,  as  well  as  himself,  should  serve  the  Lord  ?  What, 
resolve  that  his  house  should  serve  the  Lord,  and  not  join 
with  them  in  supplication  for  grace  to  serve  him  ?  That  is 
not  at  all  likely. 

Now  I  would  ask,  if  it  is  not  proper  and  right  that  every 
head  of  a  family  should  adopt  the  resolution  of  him  who 
said,  "As  for  me  and  my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord?" 
But  can  there  be  religion  in  a  house  without  prayer  ?  Is 
there  not  inconsistency  in  saying,  "  I  and  my  family  will 
serve  God,  but  we  will  have  no  family  altar  nor  offering  ?" 
Is  not  prayer  an  essential  part  of  the  service  of  God  ?  Did 
any  one  ever  live  who  supposed  that  family  prayer  was  not 
more  pleasing  to  God  than  the  omission  of  it  ?  Did  any 
one  ever  omit  it  for  fear  of  being  guilty  of  will-worship,  or 
through  dread  that  it  might  for  some  reason  oflfend  God  ? 
Did  the  practice  of  family  prayer  ever  distress  any  con- 
science ?     The  omission  of  it  has  troubled  many. 

It  is  admitted,  I  believe,  to  be  the  will  of  God  that  we 
should  pray  to  him  socially.  The  Lord's  praj'^er  was  con- 
structed for  social  use.  The  disciples  were  directed  to  use 
it  when  they  should  pray  together ;  and  it  is  accordingly 
in  the  plural  number:  not  7ny  Father,  but  "  owr  Father." 
Now,  is  God  to  be  socially  worshipped,  and  yet  not  wor- 
shipped in  that  first,  most  permanent,  and  most  interesting 
form  of  society — the  form  of  society  instituted  by  God  him- 
self— the  family  ?  Is  that  to  be  believed  ?  But  the  Lord's 
prayer  seems  not  only  intended  for  social,  but  for  daily 
use.  "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,"  is  one  of  its 
petitions.      It  does  not  contemplate  the  morrow.      It  asks 


DO  YOU   PRAY  IN  YOUR  FAMILY  1  3 

supplies  but  for  one  day.  Now  if,  as  it  appears  from  this 
reasoning,  social  prayer  should  be  daily,  where  but  in  the 
family,  the  society  which  is  abiding,  and  which  a  single 
roof  covers,  can  it  with  propriety  be  daily  ?  Should  there 
be  public  religious  services  daily,  or  daily  prayer-meetings 
for  this  purpose  ?  Then  how  suitable  it  is,  that  those  who 
together  share  their  "daily  bread,"  should  together  daily 
ask  it. 

How  7'easonahle  and  comely  is  household  religion — fam- 
ily worship  !  Common  blessings,  such  as  families  daily 
share,  call  for  common  thanksgivings.  Common  wants, 
such  as  families  together  feel,  call  for  common  supplica- 
tions. Is  it  not  fit  that  families,  in  retiring  to  rest  at  night, 
should  together  commit  themselves  to  the  divine  keeping ; 
and  in  the  morning,  unite  in  praising  the  Lord  for  having 
been  their  protector  ?  It  is  a  clear  case,  it  seems  to  me. 
Besides,  fathers  are  directed  to  bring  up  their  children  "  in 
the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord."  But  can  they 
do  this  while  they  pray  not  with  them  and  for  them  ?  I 
do  not  know  how  we  are  to  comply  with  the  apostolical 
exhortation  to  pray  "  everywhere,"  unless  we  pray  in  the 
family,  as  well  as  under  other  circumstances. 

Is  any  one  in  doubt  whether  the  practice,  or  the  omis- 
sion of  family  prayer,  will  be  the  more  pleasing  subject  of 
retrospect  from  the  dying  bed  and  the  eternal  world  ?  Par- 
ents should  not  forget,  that  presently  will  come  the  long- 
deferred  and  greatly  dreaded  season  of  taking  the  last  look, 
and  the  last  leave  of  those  whom  their  decease  is  to  make 
orphans.  0  then,  what  a  sweet  thought  it  will  be  to  enter 
into  the  dying  meditation,  that  they  have  been  in  the  daily 
habit  of  bowing  down  with  their  children  in  prayer,  and 
commending  them  to  the  care  and  grace  of  their  heavenly 
Father,  and  that  they  may  now  indulge  the  confident  hope, 
that  he  will  infinitely  more  than  supply  the  parental  place 
which  they  are  to  leave  vacant. 

But  what  need  of  more  argument  ?     I  suspect  every 


4  DO  YOU  PRAY  IN  YOUR  FAMILY  1 

one  secretly  admits  the  obligation  of  family  prayer.  I 
judge  so  from  the  trouble  many  are  at  to  apologize  for  the 
neglect.  It  tries  them  not  a  little  to  satisfy  even  them- 
selves with  an  excuse.  The  usual  plea  is  inahility.  They 
have  not  the  gift,  they  say.  What  gift  ?  Can  they  not 
collect  their  family  together  night  and  morning  ?  Have 
they  not  so  much  authority  in  their  own  house  as  that  ? 
And  then  can  they  not  read  a  portion  of  Scripture  to  them  ; 
and  kneeling  down,  express  their  common  desires  to  God  ? 
If  they  cannot  frame  a  prayer  at  the  moment,  yet  can  they 
not  use  a  form  ?  It  requires  no  great  gift  to  read  a  prayer 
in  an  audible  voice.  But  what  if  it  be  hard  at  first ;  it  will 
soon  be  easy,  if  persevered  in.  The  beginning  of  almost 
every  good  habit  is  difficult.  The  most  of  those  who  make 
this  apology,  presume  on  their  inability.  They  say  they 
cannot,  before  they  have  tried.  But  until  they  have  tried, 
they  do  not  know  whether  they  can  or  not.  What  if  some 
have  tried  once,  and  failed  ?  One  failure  should  not  dis- 
hearten them,  nor  two,  nor  even  twenty.  Demosthenes 
tried  speaking  many  times  before  he  became  an  orator. 
Besides,  how  do  those  Avho  presume  on  their  inability  to 
conduct  family  worship,  know  what  assistance  they  might 
receive  from  God,  if  they  were  to  make  an  humble  and 
faithful  experiment  ? 

If  any  one  shall  condescend  to  read  this,  who  does  not 
pray  in  his  family,  I  advise  him  to  commence  immediately. 
He  knows  that  he  will  never  be  sorry  for  it,  if  he  does ; 
but  he  is  not  so  sure  that  he  may  not  be  sorry  for  it,  if  he 
does  not.  If  there  were  no  other  reason  in  favor  of  the 
practice,  this  alone  would  be  sufficient.  I  think  it  is  Jay 
who  says,  that  a  family  without  prayer,  is  like  a  house  with- 
out a  roof — it  has  no  protection.  Who  would  like  to  live 
in  such  a  house  ? 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE   AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


i¥o.  398. 


THE 


LOST  MECHANIC  RESTORED. 


Near  the  close  of  1831,  says  Mr.  C- 


-,  of  Hartford, 
Conn.,  I  was  requested  by  a  pious  and  benevolent  lady,  to 
take  into  my  employ  a  yoimg-  man  who  had  become  intem- 
perate. I  objected  that  the  influence  of  such  a  man  would 
be  injurious  to  my  other  workmen,  and  especially  my  appren- 
tices. But  the  kind-hearted  lady  urged  her  request,  saying 
that  he  was  willing  to  come  under  an  engagement  not  to 
drink  at  all,  and  to  conform  strictly  to  all  the  regulations  of 
the  establishment;  that  she  received  him  into  her  family 
when  a  boy,  and  felt  a  deep  interest  in  his  welfare ;  that  he 
had  learned  a  trade,  and  was  an  excellent  workman ;  had 
become  hopefully  pious,  and  united  with  one  of  our  churches ; 
had  married  a  very  worthy  young  woman,  but  his  intemper- 
ance had  blasted  his  fair  prospects.  He  was  now  sensible 
of  his  danger ;  and  she  believed  his  salvation  for  this,  if  not 
lor  a  future  world,  would  turn  on  my  decision. 
VOL.  X.  37* 


2  THE  LOST  MECHANIC  RESTORED. 

I  consented  to  make  the  trial ;  and  he  came,  binding 
himself,  by  a  written  contract,  to  receive  no  part  of  his  wages 
into  his  own  hands,  and  to  forfeit  whatever  should  be  due  to 
him,  in  case  he  became  intoxicated.  He  succeeded  remark- 
ably in  my  business,  was  industrious  and  faithful,  and  strictly 
temperate  and  regular  in  all  his  habits. 

But  in  the  summer  of  1832,  he  was  by  some  means 
induced  to  taste  again  an  intoxicating  drink,  and  a  fit  of 
drunken  insanity  ensued,  which  continued  about  a  fortnight. 
Knowing  that  his  wife  had  some  money,  he  gave  her  no 
peace,  day  nor  night,  till  he  got  possession  of  it.  He  then 
took  the  boat  for  New  York,  spent  the  money,  and  after  bar- 
tering some  of  his  clothes,  returned,  a  most  destitute  and 
wretched  object. 

After  he  had  become  sober  and  rational  once  more,  I 
happened  to  meet  him  in  the  street,  and  asked  him  why  he 
did  not  come  to  work  as  usual.  With  a  voice  trembling 
and  suppressed,  and  with  a  look  of  grief,  self-reproach,  and 
despair  that  I  shall  never  forget,  he  said,  "  I  can  never 
come  into  your  shop  again.  I  have  not  only  violated  my 
contract  with  you,  but  I  have  treated  you  with  the  basest 
ingratitude,  proved  myself  unworthy  of  your  confidence,  and 
destroyed  the  last  hope  of  my  reformation." 

I  assured  him  of  my  increased  desire  for  his  welfare ;  he 
returned  to  his  employment,  and  his  attention  to  business 
evinced  the  sincerity  of  his  confessions. 

But  not  more  than  three  months  had  elapsed  before  he 
was  taken  again  in  the  toils  of  his  old  deceiver ;  and  at  this 
time  he  was  so  furious  and  unmanageable,  that  he  was  ar- 
rested and  committed  to  the  workhouse.  He  was  soon  re- 
leased, and  engaged  once  more  in  my  business.  He  continued 
for  about  two  months,  when  he  fell  again ;  and  after  a  frenzy 
of  a  week,  came  to  me  and  beo:o^ed  me  to  take  him  to  the 
workhouse,  as  the  only  means  by  which  he  should  get  sober. 
He  remained  there  a  few  days,  and  then  returned  to  his  work. 

Such  was  his  history:  a  few  months  sober,  industrious, 
and  obliging  in  my  shop ;  kind,  attentive,  and  afiectionate 
in  his  family ;  then  a  week  furiously  drunk,  absent  from  my 
shop,  violent  and  abusive  in  his  family ;  then  at  the  work- 
house ;   and  then  sober,  and  at  home  again. 

He  had  already  been  excommunicated  from  the  church 
lor  his  intemperance,  had  become  a  terror  to  his  wife,  Avho 


THE  LOST  MECHANIC  RESTORED.  3 

frequently  sent  for  me  to  protect  her  from  his  violence,  and 
seemed  to  be  utterly  abandoned. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1833,  he  was  again  missing;  and 
no  one,  not  even  his  wiie,  knew  what  had  become  of  him. 
But  in  the  course  of  the  summer  she  received  a  letter  from 
him,  in  which  he  said  he  had  got  employment,  and  wished 
her,  without  informing  me  where  he  was,  to  come  and  live 
with  him.  She  accordingly  removed  to  his  new  residence, 
and  1  heard  nothing  from  either  of  them. 

About  two  years  and  a  half  after  this,  he  came  into  my 
shop  one  day ;  but  how  changed.  Instead  of  the  bloated, 
wild,  and  despairing  countenance  that  once  marked  him  as  a 
drunkard,  he  now  wore  an  aspect  of  cheerfulness  and  health, 
of  manliness  and  self-respect.     I  approached,  took  him  by  the 

hand,  and  said,  "Well,  ,  how  do  you  do?"     "J  a7n 

tccll,''  said  he,  shaking  my  hand  most  cordially.  "Yes," 
said  I,  "well  in  more  respects  than  one."  "  Yes,  I  am," 
was  his  emphatic  reply.  "  It  is  noiv  'more  than  two  years 
since  I  have  tasted  a  drop  of  any  thing  that  can  intoxi- 
cate.'^ He  began  by  abstaining  from  ardent  spirits  only; 
"But,"  said  he,  "I  soon  found  that  what  you  had  so  often  told 
me  was  true;  that  I  could  not  reform  but  by  abstaining 
from  all  that  can  intoxicate.  I  have  done  so,  and  you  see 
the  result." 

I  then  inquired  after  the  health  of  his  wife  and  child : 
his  reply  was,  "They  are  well  and  happy."  I  asked  him 
if  "his  Mdfe  made  him  any  trouble"  now.  "Trouble," 
said  he,  "no;  and  never  did  make  any:  it  was  I  that  made 
the  trouble.  You  told  me  so,  and  I  knew  it  at  the  time. 
But  ichat  could  I  do  ?  So  long  as  I  remained  here,  I  could 
not  turn  a  corner  in  your  streets  without  passing  a  grog-shop. 
I  could  not  go  to  my  meals  without  coming  in  contact  with 
some  associate  who  would  try  to  entice  me  to  drink  with 
him ;  and  even  the  keepers  of  these  shops  would  try  every 
artifice  to  induce  me  to  drink ;  for  they  knew  that  if  they 
could  get  me  to  taste  once,  I  should  never  know  when  to  stop, 
and  they  would  be  sure  to  get  a  good  bill  against  me. 

"I  have  now  come,"  said  he,  "to  tell  you  Avhy  I  left 
you.  It  was  because  I  knew  that  I  should  die  if  I  did  not 
leave  ofi'  drinking,  and  I  saw  distinctly  that  I  could  never 
leave  ofi^  while  I  remained  in  Hartford.  My  only  hope  was, 
in  going  where  liquor  was  not  to  be  had." 


4  THE  LOST  MECHANIC  RESTORED. 

About  two  years  and  a  half  after  this,  he  apphed  to  me 
for  further  employment,  as  the  business  he  was  fbllowuig  had 
failed.  I  told  him  there  was  no  man  whom  I  should  rather 
employ,  but  I  could  not  think  of  having  him  encounter  again 
the  temptations  which  he  had  so  miraculously  escaped.  He 
very  pleasantly  replied,  "  I  am  a  man  now,  and  do  not  be- 
lieve I  have  any  thing  more  to  fear  from  the  temptations  of 
the  city  than  you  have." 

I  told  him  that  I  had  confidence  in  the  firmness  of  his 
purpose,  but  feared  to  see  it  put  to  the  test.  Yet,  as  he 
was  out  of  business,  I  consented ;  and  no  man  that  I  ever 
employed  did  better,  or  was  more  deserving  of  confidence 
and  respect.  He  continued  with  me  till  spring,  w^hen  he 
proposed  to  take  his  work  into  the  country,  so  that  he  could 
be  with  his  family :  the  arrangement  was  made,  and  I  em- 
ploy him  still. 

On  the  fourth  of  July  last,  (1839,)  the  Sunday-schools 
in  the  town  where  he  resides  made  arrangements  for  a  cel- 
ebration, and  I  was  invited  to  be  present  and  address  them. 
As  I  looked  upon  the  audience,  the  first  countenance  that 
met  my  eye  was  that  of  this  very  man,  at  the  head  of  his 
Sunday-school  class.  The  sight  almost  overwhelmed  me. 
Instead  of  a  loathsome,  drunken  maniac — a  terror  to  his 
family  and  a  curse  to  society,  whose  very  presence  was  odious, 
and  his  example  pestilential — he  was  then,  in  the  expressive 
language  of  Scripture,  "  clothed,  and  in  his  right  mind  ;"  and 
was  devoted  to  the  heavenly  work  of  guiding  children  to 
Christ  and  salvation.  He  had  made  a  public  profession  of 
religion,  which  he  was  daily  honoring  by  a  life  of  Christian 
meekness  and  sobriety. 

0,  who  can  comprehend  the  tide  of  domestic  joy,  of  social 
happiness,  and  of  Christian  consolation  which  flows  through 
the  heart  of  this  man  and  his  family,  in  consequence  of  this 
change  in  his  habits? 

Now,  what  was  the  cause  of  this  surprising  change  ? 
What  wrought  this  wonderful  transformation  in  this  indi- 
vidual ?  The  whole  story  is  told  in  one  short  line.  He 
went  where  intoxicating  liquor  ivas  not  sold.  Had  he  re- 
mained in  this  city,  he  would  probably  long  since  have  been 
laid  in  the  drunkard's  grave. 


PUBLISHED    BY   THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


IVo.  399. 

DIALOGUE 
BETWEEN  THE  BIBLE  AND  A  SINNER. 


Bihle.  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  Consider  your 
ways."     Hag.  1:5. 

Sinner.  I  am  not  so  bad  as  some  others. 

B.  "  They  that  compare  themselves  among  themselves 
are  not  wise."  2  Cor.  10  :  12. 

S.  I  hope  I  am  not  so  bad  as  to  go  to  hell. 

B.  "The  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell."    Ps.  9  :  17. 

S.  But  God  is  merciful. 

B.  "  Let  every  man  take  heed  how  he  buildeth ;  for 
other  foundation  can  no  man  lay  than  that  is  laid,  which  is 
Jesus  Christ."  1  Cor.  3  :  10,  11. 

S.  Is  there  no  mercy  out  of  Christ  ? 

B.  "There  is  none  other  name  under  heaven  given 
among  men,  whereby  we  must  be  saved."  Acts  4:12. 
"  Jesus  saith,  I  am  the  way :  no  man  cometh  unto  the 
Father,  but  by  me."  John  14  :  6. 

S.  I  hope  I  do  some  good. 

B.  "There  is  none  that  doeth  good,  no,  not  one." 
Psalm  14:  3. 

S.  Is  every  thing  that  I  do  wicked  ? 

B.  "The  thoughts  of  the  wicked  are  an  abomination  to 
the  Lord."  Prov.  15  :  26.  "The  ploughing  of  the  wicked 
is  sin."  Prov.  21  :  4. 

S.  I  am  sure  I  have  some  good  thoughts. 

B.  "  God  saw  that  the  wickedness  of  man  was  great  in 
the  earth,  and  that  every  imagination  of  the  thoughts  of 
his  heart  was  only  evil  continually."  Genesis  6  :  5.  "Out 
of  the  heart  of  men,  proceed  evil  thoughts,  adulteries,  for- 
nications, murders."  Mark  7:21. 

>S^.  If  my  heart  be  so  wicked,  what  shall  I  do  ? 

B.  "  Repent,  and  turn  from  all  your  transgressions,  and 
make  you  a  new  heart  and  a  new  spirit ;  for  why  will  ye 


2  DIALOGUE  BETWEEN 

die?"  Ezek.  18:30,  31.  *' Give  me  thine  heart."  Prov. 
23  :  26.  .  "  They  first  gave  their  own  selves  to  the  Lord." 
2  Cor.  8  :  5. 

S.  I  try  to  be  honest,  and  pay  my  debts. 

£.  "  Christ  is  become  of  no  effect  unto  you,  whosoever 
of  you  are  justified  by  the  law."  GaL  5  :  4. 

S.  What  is  the  law  ? 

£.  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind ;  and  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself."  Matt.  22:37,  39. 

S.  Surely  I  have  kept  the  law  in  some  measure. 

B.  "  Whosoever  shall  keep  the  whole  law,  and  yet  of- 
fend in  one  point,  he  is  guilty  of  all."  James  2  :  10. 

S.  But  did  not  Christ  do  away  the  moral  law  ? 

jB.  "  Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  destroy  the  law — I 
am  not  come  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil."  Matt.  5:17.  *'  Curs- 
ed is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  which 
are  written  in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them."  Galatians 
3:  10. 

>S^.  How,  then,  shall  I  be  delivered  from  the  curse  of 
the  law  ? 

B.  "  Christ  hath  redeemed  us  from  the  curse  of  the 
law."  Gal.  3:  13. 

S.  Will  all,  then,  be  saved  ? 

£.  "  He  that  believeth,  shall  be  saved  ;  but  he  that  be- 
lie veth  not,  shall  be  damned."  Mark  16  :  16. 

S.  I  do  believe. 

£.  "  The  devils  also  believe,  and  tremble."  James  2:19. 

>S^.  How,  then,  shall  I  go  to  work  ? 

B.  "  This  is  the  work  of  God,  that  ye  believe  on  him 
whom  he  hath  sent."  John  6  :  29. 

S.  What  is  it  to  believe  ? 

B.  "  With  the  heart,  man  believeth  unto  righteousness." 
Rom.  10:10. 

S.  I  have  been  trying  to  do  my  best. 

B.  "  Without  faith  it  is  impossible  to  please  him."  Heb. 
11:6. 

S.  I  have  been  praying  and  reading  my  Bible,  etc. 

B.  "  He  that  turneth  away  his  ear  from  hearing  the 
law,  even  his  prayer  shall  be  abomination."  Prov.  28  :  9. 

S.  Ought  I  not  to  pray  ? 

B.  ''Men  ought  always  to  pray."     Luke  18:1.     "I 


THE  BIBLE  AND  A  SINNER.  3 

will  therefore  that  men  pray  everywhere,  lifting  up   holy 
hands,  without  wrath  and  doubting."  1  Tim.  2:8. 

S.  But  will  not  God  hear  if  I  pray  the  best  I  can, 
though  I  have  not  a  new  heart,  and  do  not  believe  ? 

B.  "Whatsoever  is  not  of  faith  is  sin."  Rom.  14:  23. 
"  If  I  regard  iniquity  in  my  heart,  the  Lord  will  not  hear 
me."  Ps.  66:  18. 

>S^.  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ? 

£.  **  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou 
shalt  be  saved."  Acts  16  :  31. 

S.  Is  Christ  able  to  save  me  ? 

£.  "  He  is  able  to  save  them  to  the  uttermost  that  come 
unto  God  by  him,  seeing  he  ever  liveth  to  make  interces- 
sion for  them."  Heb.  '7  :  25. 

S.  But  I  am  so  unworthy  I  am  afraid  he  will  not  ac- 
cept of  me. 

JB.  "  Him  that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out." 
John  6:37. 

S.  Why,  then,  am  I  not  saved  ? 

£.  "  Ye  will  not  come  to  me,  that  ye  might  have  life." 
John  5  :  40. 

S.  I  think  I  am  willing,  I  cannot  believe  that  I  am 
unwilling  to  come  to  Christ. 

JB.  "  He  that  believeth  not  God,  hath  made  him  a  liar, 
because  he  believeth  not  the  record  that  God  gave  of  his 
Son,  And  this  is  the  record,  that  God  hath  given  to  us 
ETERNAL  LIFE ;  and  this  LIFE  is  in  his  Son."  I  John, 
5:  10,  11. 

S.  I  will  believe,  but  cannot  now. 

B.  "  God  now  commandeth  all  men  everywhere  to  re- 
pent." Acts  17:30. 

aS'.  I  must  wait  God's  time. 

B.  "■  The  Holy  Ghost  saith.  To-day  if  ye  will  hear  his 
voice,  harden  not  your  hearts."  Heb.  3  :  7,  8.  "  Behold, 
now  is  the  accepted  time ;  behold,  now  is  the  day  of  salva- 
tion." 2  Cor.  6:2.  "  Come,  for  all  things  are  now  ready." 
Luke  14:17. 

S.  How  can  I  come  now  ? 

B.  "Whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  hfe 
freely."  Rev.  22:  17. 

S.  If  I  am  spared,  I  will  try  soon  ;  perhaps  to-morrow. 

B.  "Thou  fool,  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of 


4  THE  BIBLE  AND  A  SINNER. 

thee."  Luke  12  :  20.  "Ye  know  not  what  shall  be  on  the 
morrow  ;  for  what  is  your  life  ?  it  is  even  a  vapor."  James 
4:14.    ■ 

S.  What  would  you  have  me  do  ? 

B.  "  Be  reconciled  to  God."  2  Cor.  5  :  20. 

S.  But  do  I  hate  him  ? 

B.  "  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God."  Rom. 
8:7.  "  Now  have  they  both  seen  and  hated  both  me  and 
my  Father."     John  15  :  24. 

S.  I  never  thought  I  hated  God. 

B.  **  The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things."  Jer. 
1*7  :  9.  "He  that  trusteth  in  his  own  heart  is  a  fool." 
Prov.  28  :  26. 

S.  Well,  what  must  I  do  ? 

B.  "Repent,  and  believe  the  Gospel."  Mark  1  :  15. 
"Except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  perish."  Luke  13:3.  "  He 
that  believeth,  shall  be  saved ;  but  he  that  believeth  not, 
shall  be  damned."     Mark  16  :  16. 

S.  What  can  I  do  more  ?     I  have  done  all  I  can. 

B.  "  Ye  shall  find  me,  when  ye  shall  search  for  me  with 
all  your  heart."  Jer.  29  :  13.  "  Let  him  take  hold  of  my 
strength,  that  he  may  make  peace  with  me,  and  he  shall 
make  peace  with  me."     Isa.  27  :  5. 

aS^.  But  may  I  be  saved  now  ? 

B.  "  If  thou  shalt  confess  with  thy  mouth  the  Lord 
Jesus,  and  shalt  believe  in  thy  heart,  thou  shalt  be  saved." 
Rom.  10  :  9. 

S.  Is  this  promise  for  me  ? 

B.  "  The  Spirit  and  the  bride  say.  Come  ;  and  let  him 
that  heareth  say,  Come  ;  and  let  him  that  is  athirst  come ; 
and  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely." 
Rev.  22  :  17. 

S.  I  do  believe  with  all  my  heart. 

B.  "  Go  thy  way  ;  and  as  thou  hast  believed,  so  be  it 
done  unto  thee."  Matt.  8  :  13.  "Return  to  thine  own 
house,  and  show  how  great  things  God  hath  done  unto 
thee."  Luke  8  :  39.  "Not  unto  us,  O  Lord,  not  unto 
us,  but  unto  THY  NAME  give  GLORY,  for  thy  MERCY,  and  for 
thy  truth's  sake."     Ps.  115  :  1. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


]Vo.  400. 

DO  THYSELF  NO  HARM. 


Look  at  the  harm  you  have  done  yourself  already. 

1.  In  regard  to  your  character.  A  most  precious  gift 
of  God  is  your  reason.  Its  dictates  would  have  led  you  to 
God  in  sweet  obedience  and  confiding  love ;  but  they  have 
not  been  obeyed.  You  are  a  moral  being,  and  capable  of 
noble  and  delightful  emotions  towards  all  holy  beings,  sim- 
ilar to  those  that  fill  the  bosom  of  angels  ;  but  all  the  im- 
pulses which  would  have  led  you  to  harmony  of  feeling  and 
character  with  God  and  all  the  good,  have  been  resisted. 
Dependent,  too,  as  you  have  been,  on  the  divine  kindness 
for  every  blessing,  you  have  yet  been  a  stranger  to  pious 
gratitude.  The  noblest  motives  that  ever  invited  a  rational 
being  into  the  service  of  his  Maker,  have  been  addressed  to 
you  in  vain.  You  ma)''  stand  fair  before  the  world  ;  but 
every  tie  that  has  bound  you  to  God,  has  been  broken.  Can 
you  look  on  the  map  of  life  and  point  out  any  spot,  and  say, 
"  There  I  sincerely  and  cordially  sought  to  glorify  God  ?" 
Men  may  praise  you ;  but  were  all  the  holy  beings  in  the 
universe  to  give  their  decision,  you  would  sink  overwhelmed 
by  the  unanimous  voice  of  condemnation.  Nothing  stamps 
a  rational  being  with  such  dishonor  as  sin,  and  in  your  case 
there  is  not  one  act  of  holy  obedience  to  relieve  the  dark 
picture. 

2.  See,  too,  the  harm  done  your  happiness.  You  have 
been  a  stranger  to  the  pure  and  holy  joys  of  God's  service. 
You  might  have  seen  the  world  in  which  you  dwell  radiant 
with  the  beauty  and  glory  of  God,  and  might  have  tasted 
the  sweetest  pleasures  from  the  vision,  had  you  not  suffered 
sin  to  darken  and  pervert  your  mind.  Your  early  accept- 
ance of  Christ  would  have  opened  a  fountain  of  holy  joys, 
and  the  streams  issuing  from  it  would  have  run  along  par- 
allel with  the  whole  path  of  life.  But  directly  have  you 
done  your  happiness  harm.  You  have  violated  the  laws  of 
your  moral  nature  by  disobeying  God.  The  wounded  flesh 
does  not  more  certainly  insure  pain  than  the  wounded  spirit. 
Suffering  treads  in  the  footsteps  of  transgression.  You 
have  felt  the  painful  rebukes  of  a  guilty  conscience.     You 

VOL.  X.  38 


2  DO  THYSELF  NO  HARM. 

have  realized  an  aching  void  in  your  soul,  which  all  you 
have  gained  of  the  world  has  not  been  able  to  fill.  You 
may  have  drank  of  the  sweets  of  earthly  bliss ;  but  they 
have  been  often  turned  to  bitter  waters  by  the  conscious- 
ness that  you  were  starving  an  immortal  mind. 

3.  See,  too,  the  harm  you  have  done  your  usefulness. 
Had  you  followed  the  first  impulse  you  felt  to  a  life  of  piety, 
by  yielding  your  heart  to  the  Gospel's  first  appeal,  what  a 
blessed  influence  you  might  have  shed  around  you.  What 
salutary  rebukes  you  would  have  administered  to  evil-doers, 
and  what  joyful  and  animating  encouragement  to  fellow- 
disciples.  Your  example,  prayers,  and  labors,  might  have 
turned  many  from  sin  and  death.  One  and  another,  now 
departed,  might  have  gone  exulting  into  eternity,  praising 
God  for  your  happy  influence  over  them,  and  be  now  wait- 
ing to  welcome  you  to  the  same  happy  home  in  heaven. 

4.  Most  of  all,  consider  the  peril  into  which  you  have 
brought  your  soul.  Here  has  been  a  dreadful  desolation. 
By  resisting  all  the  holy  and  reasonable  will  of  God,  you 
have  oblio-ed  him  to  become  a  consuming  fire  aQ^ainst  you. 
Look  at  this  awful  attitude  of  his  holy  government :  ''  Curs- 
ed is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  written  in 
the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them."  Now  look  at  another 
more  terrific  still,  if  possible  :  "  Of  how  much  sorer  punish- 
ment, suppose  ye,  shall  he  be  thought  worthy,  who  hath 
trodden  under  foot  the  Son  of  God,  and  hath  counted  the 
blood  of  the  covenant,  wherewith  he  was  sanctified,  an  un- 
holy thing,  and  hath  done  despite  unto  the  Spirit  of  grace  ?" 
All  the  holy  universe  would  approve  the  instant  infliction 
upon  you  of  the  sentence  of  eternal  banishment  from  the 
presence  of  God.  Its  immediate  execution  nothing  but 
sovereign  mercy  prevents. 

Have  you  not,  then,  already  done  yourself  harm  ?  Lin- 
ger now,  for  a  moment,  on  another  point.  You  are  the  sole 
author  of  all  this  evil.  The  combined  agency  of  all  the 
wicked  in  the  universe  could  not  have  done  you  this  injury, 
irrespective  of  your  own  will.  Who  but  yourself  debased 
your  noble  powers  to  the  service  of  sin  ?  What  hindered 
you  from  exerting  the  best  influence  on  the  best  welfare  of 
others,  but  your  love  and  practice  of  iniquity  ?  What  has 
robbed  you  of  the  joys  of  holy  obedience,  but  your  refusal 
to  obey  ?     And  your  soul's  peril,  at  whose  door  but  vour 


DO  THYSELF  NO  HARM.  8 

own  does  that  dreadful  responsibility  lie  ?  No  hand  but 
your  own  has  fired  the  train  that  threatens  everlasting 
burnings.  Accuse  whom  you  may,  the  charge  refuses  to 
cleave  anywhere  but  to  your  own  soul. 

But  the  harm  already  done  will  be  greatly  increased  hy 
continuance  in  sin. 

1.  In  respect  to  character.  All  the  dark  hues  of  guilt 
will  grow  darker.  Actions  dishonorable  to  you  as  a  rational 
being,  and  such  is  every  sin,  are  rapidly  accumulating ;  and 
each  adds  a  deeper  shade  to  the  already  melancholy  pic- 
ture. One  sin  blasted  the  honor  of  the  angels  that  fell,  and 
banished  them  from  heaven.  One  sin  drove  our  first  par- 
ents in  ignominy  from  the  garden  of  Eden.  If  one  sin 
stamps  the  soul  with  ignominy,  what  is  done  when  increas- 
ing years  of  guilt  multiply  sins  by  millions  ?  To  what  a 
depth,  0  sinner,  are  you  plunging.  You  are  sinking  in  the 
view  of  God  and  all  holy  beings.  And  to  such  a  point  is 
the  matter  rapidly  hastening,  that  God,  in  awful  justice, 
will  sufier  you  to  sink  where  the  shame  of  sin  shall  be  eter- 
nal. 

2.  See,  too,  the  increasing  harm  to  happiness.  Sin  is 
hastening  to  consume  every  form  of  it,  like  a  devouring  fire. 
The  last  draught  from  the  cup  of  worldly  pleasure  will  soon 
be  taken,  and  sin  will  leave  your  soul  incapable  of  any 
other.  It  has  already  cut  you  off  from  happiness  in  God, 
and  w^hen  the  poor  joys  of  this  life  are  over,  the  cup  will 
be  empty  for  ever.  There  is  no  destroyer  of  happiness  so 
terrible  as  sin.  It  cuts  off  the  branch  and  tears  up  the 
root,  and  burns  them  both  together. 

3.  Go  on  in  unrepented  sin,  and  the  spiritual  and  eter- 
nal welfare  of  not  one  human  being  will  be  promoted  by 
your  earthly  existence.  How  melancholy  the  thought,  that 
you  should  complete  your  career  on  earth  under  the  accu- 
sation of  having  never  exerted  the  smallest  direct  and  holy 
influence  to  turn  a  perishing  sinner  to  God.  Persisting  in 
sin  will  involve  you  in  the  guilt  of  knowing  that  multitudes 
around  you  are  in  danger  of  everlasting  burnings,  and  yet 
leaving  them  unblest  by  a  single  prayer  in  their  behalf,  or 
a  single  warning  of  their  danger.  Useless,  Oh  think  of 
it,  amid  the  most  exciting  motives  to  do  good  known  any- 
where in  the  creation  of  God,  Useless,  when  God  has  re- 
vealed, that  every  sincere  effort  for  man's  salvation,  shall 


4  DO  THYSELF  NO  HARM. 

meet  a  gracious,  an  eternal  reward.  Useless,  when,  through 
divine  grace,  you  might  have  turned  many  to  righteousness, 
and  with  them  have  shone  ''  as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever." 

4.  Go  on,  sinner,  and  the  harm  will  be  fully  done  in  the 
RUIN  OF  YOUR  SOUL.  The  danger  is  not  in  the  fact  of  past 
guilt,  vast  as  that  guilt  has  been.  Your  madness  and  folly 
have  indeed  fired  your  dwelling,  but  you  need  not  perish  in 
the  flames.  The  devourinof  woes  of  the  law's  vencjeance 
may  be  repelled  by  "the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,"  and 
all  your  guilt  washed  away  in  his  atoning  blood.  No  past 
sin  necessarily  seals  your  doom ;  it  is  the  commission  of 
another,  the  rejection  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Here  is 
the  dreadful  peril.  "  He  that  believeth  not  the  Son,  shall 
not  see  life ;  but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him,"  All 
that  is  tender,  and  all  that  is  terrible  in  an  appeal  to  a  sin- 
ful soul,  is  embodied  here.  In  the  name  of  every  thing 
blessed  in  your  redemption,  I  charge  you,  do  not  thyself 
the  everlasting  harm  of  rejecting  the  blessed  Redeemer. 

Let  the  benevolence  of  this  warning  touch  your  heart. 
Paul's  cry  to  the  Philippian  jailer  stayed  his  hand,  and 
saved  him  from  the  guilt  of  self-murder.  The  same  language 
now  bids  you  beware  of  the  horrible  guilt  of  murdering 
your  immortal  soul.  The  jailer  heard,  and  lived.  Hear, 
and  you  shall  live.  God,  though  dishonored  and  provoked 
by  your  sins,  yet  sends  you,  in  infinite  love,  this  message 
to  prevent  your  knowing  the  harm  of  the  second  death.  It 
is  full  of  kindness. 

It  is,  too,  a  timely  warning.  Had  Paul's  voice  reached 
the  jailer  a  moment  later,  it  would  have  found  him  welter- 
ing in  his  blood.  But  it  came  in  time.  So  does  this.  The 
ship  is  indeed  sinking,  but  has  not  yet  gone  down  into  the 
dark  grave  of  waters. 

It  may  be  the  last  warning.  Think  of  that.  God's 
patience  has  been  amazing  towards  you ;  but  it  has  a 
boundary.  Your  rejecting  of  this  warning  may  be  the 
only  drop  wanting  to  fill  the  cup  of  iniquity.  Oh  that  you 
would  heed  the  appeal,  perhaps  to  be  repeated  no  more, 

DO  THYSELF  NO  HARM. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY. 


IVo.  401. 

THE 


TEMPTATIONS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


It  is  the  misfortune  of  man  to  be  wise  too  late.  When 
involved  in  ruin,  he  finds  that  had  he  "pondered  the 
path  of  his  feet,"  all  his  ways  would  have  been  ordered 
aright  We  are  subject  to  frequent  and  dangerous 
temptations,  and  it  is  imprudent  and  criminal  to  disre- 
gard them.  ''  Happy  is  the  man  that  feareth  always ; 
but  he  that  hardeneth  his  heart  shall  fall  into  mischief." 
"  Let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth,  take  heed  lest  he 
fall."  In  view  of  these  divine  admonitions,  we  solicit 
the  serious  and  candid  attention  of  young  men  to  some 
of  the  temptations  by  which  they  are  surrounded ;  for 
if  in  early  life  we  fail  to  resist  the  allurements  of  sin, 
we  subject  ourselves  to  its  grievous  and  degrading  bon- 
dage, not  only  in  succeeding  age,  but  in  eternity. 

1.  A  large  class  of  young  men  are  strongly  tempted 
to  scepticism.  Not  to  a  settled  disbelief  of  Christianity, — 
for  very  few,  if  any,  are  so  hardened  as  to  be  harassed 
with  no  fears  of  its  truth, — but  to  a  state  of  doubt  and 
unfixedness,  which,  as  surely  as  the  deepest  infidelity, 
leads  to  the  practical  rejection  of  the  Bible  and  its  prof- 
fered blessings. 

Among  the  prominent  causes  of  scepticism  may  be 
mentioned  the  perverted  spirit  of  our  free  institutions. 
We  exult  in  that  liberty  with  which  God  has  blessed 
us  above  other  nations  ;  and  swayed  by  ingratitude  and 
pride,  suppose  that,  as  we  are  free  from  the  oppressive 
domination  of  man,  so  we  are  free  from  the  law  and 
government  of  God. 

Another  cause  is  the  want  of  consideration.  The 
knowledge  of  God  must  be  obtained  by  diligent  search. 

VOL.  X.  3S* 


2  TEMPTATIONS    OF    YOUNG    MEN. 

Partaking  of  the  activity  of  the  age,  and  immersed  in 
business,  young  men  acquire  such  habits  of  indiffer- 
ence or  aversion  to  religion,  that  they  neglect  or  resist 
its  claims. 

We  may  mention  also,  in  this  connection,  intellectual 
pride.  Men  adopt  erroneous  opinions  and  cherish  them 
with  ardent  affection ;  and,  without  examining  the  evi- 
dences for  the  authority  of  the  Gospel,  find  that  it  inter- 
feres with  their  notions,  rises  above  their  comprehen- 
sion, checks  their  speculations,  demands  submission  to 
God's  will  as  the  rule  of  life,  and  refuses  its  blessings  to 
all  who  are  not  humble  and  penitent.  If  they  receive  it, 
they  must  discard  their  much-loved  opinions ;  their  pride 
will  not  permit  this,  and  they  reject  the  Gospel. 

But  the  most  fruitful  cause  of  scepticism  isimmorality 
Men  delig-ht  in  courses  of  life  which  the  Bible  for 
bids.  To  admit  its  authority,  would  be  to  condemn 
themselves.  They  will  not  renounce  their  sins,  and  in 
consistency  and  self-defence  make  an  effort  to  disbelieve 
the  Bible  :  not  because  its  requisitions  are  injurious  or 
unjust ;  but  for  the  reason  that  Ahab,  the  wicked  king 
of  Israel,  disliked  the  true  prophet  of  the  Lord,  '*  I  hate 
him,  for  he  doth  not  prophesy  good  concerning  me,  but 
evil."     1  Kings,  22  :    8. 

As  an  ANTIDOTE  to  scepticism,  look  at  its  origiii.  It 
is  the  child  of  sin.  Opposition  to  the  Bible  proceeds 
not  from  the  unbiassed  decisions  of  the  understanding, 
but  from  the  depraved  feelings  of  the  heart ;  and  would 
cease  to  exist  if  the  divine  threatenings  against  sin  were 
removed.  Hundreds  of  speculative  difficulties  vanish, 
when  the  heart  is  renewed  by  grace.  "Light  is  come 
into  the  world,  and  men  loved  darkness  rather  than  light, 
because  their  deeds  were  evil."    John,  3  :  19. 

Scepticism  is  not  the  result  of  reason.  No  man  ever 
has  proved,  or  can  prove,  the  Bible  untrue  ;  and  each 
new  effort  made  against  it  only  serves  to  strengthen  the 


TEMPTATIONS    OF    YOUNG    MEN.  6 

conviction  of  its  truth.  But  scepticism  has  never  offer- 
ed a  defence  against  the  attacks  upon  it.  It  has  no  set- 
tled principles  to  defend,  and  its  constant  resort  has 
been  to  gather  up  old,  and  stale,  and  often-answered 
objections  ;  and  present  them  with  a  pertinacity  and 
boldness  worthy  a  better  cause.  When  Gibbon  and 
Paine  attempted  to  undermine  the  foundations  of  the 
christian  system,  a  large  number  of  replies,  some  of 
them  by  men  of  great  standing  and  ability,  were  publish- 
ed. They  did  not  notice  one  of  them.  Why  were  they 
silent  1  Why  has  no  answer  ever  been  attempted  to  the 
works  of  Paley  and  Jenyns,  Leslie  and  Watson,  and  the 
host  of  able  defenders  of  the  christian  faith  1  The  con- 
clusion must  be,  scepticism  is  indefensible,  and  the  evi- 
dences of  Christianity  unanswerable. 

The  effects  of  scepticism  arc  such  as  might  be  expect- 
ed from  its  origin.  It  would  destroy  whatever  is  fair, 
and  lovely,  and  productive  of  temporal  and  eternal  good 
in  the  christian  system,  and  give  us  nothing  in  its  place. 
It  permits  and  encourages  practices  which  subject  the 
body  to  premature  decay  and  death ;  it  impairs  and 
sometimes  paralyzes  the  intellect ;  it  debases  the  affec- 
tions ;  turns  the  soul  from  the  fountain  of  light  and  hap- 
piness here,  and  presents  it  nothing  but  darkness  and 
misery  hereafter.  It  saps  the  foundations  of  all  belief, 
and  leaves  no  resting-place  between  Christianity  and 
the  horrors  of  atheism ;  for  the  dispositions  and  modes 
of  reasoning  by  Avhich  it  rejects  the  Bible,  will  lead  to 
the  rejection  of  any  system  claiming  to  be  revealed, 
and  even  of  natural  religion  itself.  Every  objection 
against  the  truths  of  the  Bible  may  be  made  with  equal 
force  against  the  constitution  and  course  of  nature  ;  and 
the  very  reasoning  which  would  prove  the  Bible  unwor- 
thy of  belief,  would  require  us  to  believe  that  the  world 
has  neither  a  Creator  nor  moral  Governor. 

Let  the  sceptic,  then,  examine  the  evidences  of  the  Gos- 


4j  temptations  of  yoitng  men. 

pel.  Each  one  is  strong  by  itself,  and  all  combined  con- 
stitute a' solid  mass  which  no  force  or  ingenuity  can  over- 
throw. The  public  and  unequivocal  miracles  wrought 
by  the  Saviour  and  his  apostles — prophecy  verified  at 
the  present  day  in  the  fulfilment  of  its  predictions — the 
rapid  and  triumphant  propagation  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion when  met  by  the  most  violent  opposition — the  un- 
exampled and  perfect  moral  purity  of  the  doctrines  and 
precepts  of  the  Bible — the  life  and  character  of  Jesus 
Christ,  unparalleled  in  the  examples  of  virtue  among 
mankind — and  the  adaptation  of  his  religion  in  every 
part  of  it  to  the  Avants  of  human  nature — all  conspire  to 
attest  the  truth,  inspiration,  and  excellence  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. But  chiefly  let  the  Bible  itself  be  read ;  it  is  the 
best  book  on  the  evidences  of  Christianity  ever  written: 
ignorance  is  the  fruitful  cause  of  objections  to  it,  and 
when  read  with  an  humble,  docile,  and  honest  heart,  its 
divine  origin  shines  on  every  page. 

2.  But  some  are  too  enlightened  and  conscientious 
to  be  sceptical,  and  yet  unwilling  to  submit  fully  to  the 
Gospel.  They  are  tempted  to  seek  some  half-way  point, 
where  sin  can  be  indulged,  and  enough  of  the  form  of 
religion  obtained  to  pacify  conscience;  and  unfortunately 
various  systems  of  error  afibrd  the  desired  refuge. 
Some  errorists  warmly  protest  that  they  alone  know 
the  truth ;  and  are  deceived,  because  with  much  that  is 
false  they  mingle  much  that  is  true  ;  for  error  is  danger- 
ous as  it  is  mixed  with,  or  resembles  the  truth.  Others, 
impressed  with  false  ideas  of  liberality,  suppose  there 
are  no  essential  or  fundamental  principles  in  religion  ; 
and  that  there  can  be  no  important  difference  between 
the  conflicting  creeds  of  those  who  profess  to  be  chris- 
tians. They  believe  there  is  truth  in  science,  medicine, 
law,  and  politics,  and  that  error  in  any  one  of  these  must 
be  injurious ;  but  that  on  the  subject  which  relates  to 
man's  eternal  destiny,  it  is  immaterial  what  he  believes, 


TEMPTATlOiNS    OF    YOUJN'G    MEN.  5 

provided  he  be  sincere.  If  it  be  asked  what  views  are 
erroneous  1  We  answer,  those  which  disagree  with  the 
great  essential  truths  revealed  in  the  Scriptures,  and 
professed  by  all  evangelical  christians  :  such  as  the  fal- 
len and  utterly  lost  condition  of  man :  his  redemption 
by  the  grace  of  God,  through  faith  in  the  merits  of  a 
Divine  Saviour  :  and  his  regeneration,  and  preparation 
for  heaven,  through  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
the  instrumentality  of  the  means  of  grace.  These  are 
known  to  be  true,  because  they  accord  with  the  plain  and 
obvious  meaning  of  the  Bible,  and,  when  really  believed, 
produce  the  fruits  of  righteousness. 

As  a  guard  against  error  or  laxity  of  opinion,  let  it 
be  borne  in  mind  that  the  truth  may  be  known.  It  is 
throwing  contempt  on  God  to  admit  that  he  has  made 
a  revelation  of  his  will,  and  yet  left  it  so  unintelligible 
that  we  cannnot  discern  between  what  is  right  and  what 
is  wrong.  We  are  responsible  for  our  belief.  Our  opin- 
ions excite  our  feelings,  and  our  feelings  impel  us  to 
action ;  and  if  we  are  guilty  for  doing  wrong,  we  are 
also  guilty  for  adopting  the  opinion  which  leads  us  to  do 
so.  Error  is  poisonous  to  the  soul.  Its  effects  may  be 
slow  and  imperceptible,  but  ultimately  will  be  certain 
and  awfully  destructive.  It  may  be  cherished  during 
life,  and  may  delude  even  in  death  ;  but  at  the  judgment 
we  shall  meet  the  God  of  truth,  and  he  must  condemn 
all  who  refuse  to  believe  and  love  it.  Tlie  sincerity  and 
confidence  with  which  erroneous  sentiments  are  avowed 
are  no  proofs  of  their  correctness  ]  God  has  declared 
that  when  men  will  prefer  error  to  truth,  he  will  judicial- 
ly abandon  them  to  their  chosen  courses,  make  their  bands 
strong,  and  let  them  await  their  recompense  hereafter. 

3.  False  notions  of  personal  independence  often  fill 
the  minds  of  young  men.  The  early  age  at  which  they 
come  into  active  life,  a  deficient  education,  and  the  driv- 
ing spirit  of  the  times,  render  them  vain  of  their  strength : 


§  TEMPTATIONS    01''    YOUiV'G    IVIEN. 

and  they  consider  it  an  evidence  of  manliness  to  break 
over  old  and  ordinary  restrictions,  and  deviate  from  the 
beaten  path  before  them.  They  imagine  they  must  think 
for  themselves,  and  therefore  differ  from  every  one  else. 
Some  have  been  religiously  educated  ;  they  received 
their  fathers'  faith  without  investigation ;  in  the  world 
they  hear  it  assailed,  they  listen  to  objections  against  it, 
never  examine  the  evidences  for  its  truth,  and  finally 
break  what  they  call  the  trammels  of  education,  and 
neglect  or  despise  that  religion  whose  sweet  influences 
made  their  paternal  home  an  abode  of  happiness,  and 
moulded  their  early  habits  to  virtue  and  truth ;  and 
which  those  most  dear  to  them,  living  and  dying,  valued 
above  all  earthly  treasures.  Having  avowed  their  opin- 
ions, they  feel  bound  to  maintain  them,  and  thus  fix 
themselves  immovably  in  some  system  of  unbelief.  Let 
all  such  recollect  that  it  is  far  more  safe  to  be  distrustful 
than  vainly  confident.  The  faith  they  so  independently 
reject  has  been  the  chosen  portion  of  the  wisest  and 
best  of  earth;  and  when  philosophy,  and  literature,  and 
science  have  bowed  with  reverence  to  religion,  it  ill  be- 
comes inexperienced  youth  to  cast  it  away. 

The  Avriter  of  these  pages  was,  a  few  years  since, 
called  to  the  bed-side  of  a  bold  and  daring  infidel.  The 
near  approach  of  death  convinced  him  of  his  need  of 
preparation,  but  his  bodily  sufferings  prevented  his  giv- 
ing the  short  and  distracted  attention  of  his  dying  hours 
to  the  concerns  of  his  soul.  During  a  slight  intermission 
of  pain  he  requested  prayer  to  be  offered.  It  was  done, 
and  he  was  pointed  to  the  Saviour.  He  replied,  "  I  have 
been  a  most  wicked  and  incorrigible  opponent  of  the 
whole  Christian  system,  and  I  know  not  why  I  was  so 
but  for  the  pride  of  opinion.''^  The  consolations  of  that 
religion  which  he  neglected  and  scorned  in  life  were 
denied  him  in  death,  and  he  went  to  eternity  a  sacrifice 
to  a  false  independence  and  pride  of  opinion.  "Rejoice, 


TEMPTATIOAS    OF    YOUiNG    MEN.  7 

O  young  man,  in  thy  youth  ;  and  let  thine  heart  cheer  thee 
in  the  days  of  thy  youth,  and  walk  in  the  ways  of  thine 
heart,  and  in  the  sight  of  thine  eyes  :  but  know  thou 
that  for  all  these  things  God  will  bring  thee  into  judg- 
ment." Eccl.  11  :  9. 

4.  There  are  some,  however,  who^  from  the  want  of 
a  true  spirit  of  independence^  fear  to  take  an  open  and 
decided  stand  in  favor  of  the  truth.  The  mutual  depen- 
dence which  exists  in  society,  and  a  false  estimate  of 
the  wisdom  and  right  feeling  of  mankind,  deter  many 
from  expressing  or  changing  their  opinions,  from  break- 
ing off  bad  practices  and  vicious  associations,  and  from 
discharging  important  and  acknowledged  duties.  Ridi- 
cule and  misrepresentation  are  also  employed  to  keep  men 
from  religion.  A  rational  conviction  of  truth,  on  good 
evidence,  is  characterized  as  credulity ;  while  belief, 
without  evidence,  is  free  thinking.  A  sincere  attach- 
ment and  obedience  to  the  truth  is  represented  as  bigot- 
ry ;  while  a  disregard  of  correct  principles  is  liberality. 
The  fear  of  God  is  denominated  superstition;  and  a 
reckless  course  is  manliness.  An  honest  zeal  for  the 
best  interests  of  mankind  is  called  fanaticism ;  and  a 
selfish  and  careless  mode  of  life  reputable.  A  serious 
deportment  is  styled  hypocrisy,  and  levity  and  dissipation 
only  innocent  pleasure.  It  is  difficult  to  break  the  force 
of  such  perversions.  The  friends  of  true  religion  are 
willing  to  submit  its  evidences  and  doctrines  to  candid 
inve^^tigation,  and  to  test  its  practical  utility  by  its  fruits  j 
but  they  cannot  refute  a  laugh,  or  disprove  a  sneer. 

Let  each  young  man  esteem  his  soul  too  valuable  to 
be  exchanged  for  so  low  a  price  as  the  ribaldry  and 
scoffs  of  the  profane.  The  law  of  God,  and  not  the 
opinions  of  men,  is  the  rule  of  life. 

God  holds  each  individual  personally  responsible 
for  his  opinions  and  conduct;  others  may  entice  him 
to  sin,  but  they  will  not,  and  cannot  relieve  him  from 


TEMPTATIONS    OF    YOUNG    MEN. 


punishment.  A  straight  forward,  independent  attach- 
ment to  what  is  right  will  alone  be  pleasant  and  safe. 
The  approbation  of  the  world  is  never  sincerely  given 
to  the  fearful  and  compromising  j  it  is  very  change- 
able, worth  but  little  at  the  best,  and  can  but  poorly  re- 
pay the  loss  of  the  friendship  of  God. 

5.  We  naturally  admire  what  is  great ;  and  as  the 
humble  followers  of  Chri?t  embrace  "not  many  wise 
men  after  the  flesh,  not  many  mighty,  not  many  noble," 
some  are  prone  to  regard  the  Gospel  as  adapted  only  to 
weak  and  inferior  minds.  True  possessors  of  religion 
feel  their  need  of  it,  and  give  it  the  attention  it  demands  ; 
while  rejecters,  lifted  up  with  pride,  feel  no  necessity, 
or  are  so  engrossed  with  other  things,  that  they  do  not 
attend  to  it ;  and  its  acceptance  or  rejection  has  ever 
turned  on  other  causes  than  the  strength  or  weakness 
of  the  intellect.  Christianity  was  evidently  designed 
rather  to  make  men  good^  than  great.  She  comes  to 
supply  the  moral  necessities  of  mankind,  and  needs  no 
adventitious  support.  But  there  is  more  in  her  truths, 
when  cheerfully  received  and  obeyed,  to  make  men  truly 
great,  than  can  be  found  any  where  else.  She  implants 
those  moral  qualities  which  are  necessary  to  give  the 
intellect  its  greatest  vigor.  She  directs  attention  to  the 
welfare  of  the  undying  soul,  an  object  of  more  impor- 
tance than  empires  or  worlds.  The  Bible  reveals  truths 
which  the  greatest  minds  of  antiquity  sought  in  vain. 
It  has  afforded  subjects  for  the  noblest  efforts  of  the  pen- 
cil, and  themes  for  the  loftiest  strains  of  eloquence  and 
song  ;  the  most  profound  maxims  of  jurisprudence,  and 
the  most  comprehensive  and  excellent  rules  of  private 
life.  Those  expanded  minds  who  have  conferred  the 
greatest  blessings  on  mankind,  have  delighted  to  study 
Its  truths ;  and  Christianity  should  not  be  associated  with 
littleness  when  she  numbers  among  her  sincere  friends 
and  advocates  such  philosophers  as  Newton  and  Euler, 


TEMPTATIONS    OF     YOUiN'G    MEN.  9 

such  physicians  as  Rush  and  Good,  such  lawyers  as  Sir 
Matthew  Hale  and  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  and  such 
statesmen  as  Washington. 

6.  The  high,  and  ardent  feelings  of  youth  often  lead 
them  to  place  too  great  a  value  on  the  things  of  the 
world,  and  indulge  expectations  from  it  which  can  never 
be  realized.  Unmindful  of  the  experience  of  others, 
they  press  on  with  eager  desire  to  obtain  its  fancied  bless- 
ings, till  repeated  and  bitter  disappointments  convince 
them  of  their  folly.  The  great  end  of  existence  is  to 
glorify  God,  and  prepare  for  an  immortal  state.  The 
world,  if  kept  in  its  appropriate  place,  and  pursued  from 
right  motives,  will  be  no  hinderance  ;  but  if  permitted 
to  engage  supreme  affection  it  must  disappoint.  Its 
best  gifts  are  short-lived,  often  attended  with  satiety 
and  followed  by  sorrow.  The  votary  of  pleasure  has 
mourned  the  day  when  he  bartered  his  soul  for  vani- 
ty and  songs;  the  man  of  wealth  has  found  his  gold 
too  poor  to  buy  a  reprieve  from  affliction  or  death,  and 
the  recipient  of  the  world's  applause  has  felt  the  unmiti- 
gated remorse  and  despair  of  a  dying  hour.  God  alone 
is  the  satisfying  portion  of  the  soul.  Earth's  fading 
distinctions  cannot  be  contrasted  with  the  imperishable 
crown  of  glory,  nor  its  riches  with  the  incorruptible 
and  undefiled  inheritance  above. 

7.  The  temptation  to  consider  religion  simply  a  mat- 
ter of  general  interest,  and  postpone  to  a  more  convenient 
season  the  requisite  attention  to  its  claims,  is  a  common 
and  fatal  one.  The  welfare  of  the  soul  is  a  direct  per- 
sonal concern,  and  we  should  banish  immediately  every 
thought  of  neglecting  it.  Young  men  would  shudder  at 
the  suggestion  of  postponing  it  for  ever ;  and  in  no- 
thing is  the  ingenuity  of  the  great  destroyer  more  manifest 
than  the  manner  in  which  he  secures  the  neglect  of  pre- 
sent opportunities  with  the  promise  of  attending  to  the 
subject  in  future.     But  the  engagements  of  the  future 

VOL.  X,  39 


10  TEMPTATIONS     OF    YOUNG    MEN. 

will  be  as  numerous  and  pressing-  as  those  which  occupy 
us  now';  the  work  will  be  entirely  deferred,  and  the  de- 
laying soul  perish  a  victim  to  good  intentions.  ''God 
now  commandeth  all  men  every  where  to  repent."  Acts, 
17:30.  He  says,  "Behold  now  is  the  accepted  time, 
behold  now  is  the  day  of  salvation."  2  Cor.  6 :  2.  He  of- 
fers no  mercy  to  the  future  penitent,  nor  can  he  con- 
sistently ;  and  if  any  of  our  pursuits  forbid  immediate 
obedience  to  his  claims,  they  are  sinful  and  should  be 
abandoned.  Business  and  care  will  multiply  with  years, 
bad  habits  may  be  inveterately  formed,  and  the  power  and 
pollution  of  sin  will  increase.  Circumstances  now  fa- 
vorable may  be  changed,  and  existing  difficulties  become 
more  formidable  ;  and  should  you  not  descend  to  an 
early  tomb,  by  the  repeated  neglect  of  your  privileges 
you  may  tempt  God  to  Avithhold  the  influences  of  his 
Spirit,  and  there  will  then  remain  no  hope  for  you.  You 
will  live  a  ruined  man — you  may  move  cheerfully  in  so- 
ciety, but  will  be  as  certain  of  perdition  as  if  you  were 
at  this  moment  in  the  midst  of  its  agonies  and  woes. 

8.  Young  men  are  often  deeply  injured  by  reading 
works  ofJicHo?i,  and  attending  theatrical  representations. 
We  class  these  together  because  both  appeal  to  the  ima- 
gination. Novels  form  a  large  part  of  the  literature  of 
the  present  day,  and  the  theatre  professes  to  be  a  good 
school  for  the  study  of  morality  and  human  nature. 
They  are  hurtful,  as  they  give  an  undue  predominance 
to  the  imagination,  and  weaken  and  depress  the  other 
faculties  of  the  mind.  The  beautiful  harmony  of  the  in- 
tellectual powers  is  destroyed,  and  mental  imbecility 
and  deformity  ensue. 

The  love  of  fiction^  and  a  spirit  of  deep,  patient,  phi- 
losophic investigation,  cannot  be  united.  The  dispro- 
portionate exercise  of  the  imagination  is  prejudicial  to 
the  health  and  development  of  the  physical  system,  and 
tends  to  shorten  life.  It  expels  true  social  affection  from 


TEMPTATIOA'S    OF    VOUJSG    MEN.  11 

the  heart,  and  renders  it  cold,  obdurate,  and  selfish.  ''  No 
cloak  of  selfishness,"  says  the  author  of  the  Natural 
History  of  Enthusiasm,  '^  is  more  impenetrable  than 
that  which  usually  envelopes  a  pampered  imagination. 
The  reality  of  wo  is  the  very  circumstance  that  paraly- 
zes sympathy  J  and  the  eyes  that  can  pour  forth  their 
floods  of  commiseration  over  the  sorrows  of  the  ro- 
mance or  the  drama,  grudge  a  tear  to  the  substantial 
wretchedness  of  the  unhappy.  This  kind  of  luxurious 
sensitiveness  to  fiction  is  not  unfrequentlj'"  conjoined 
with  a  callousness  that  enables  the  subject  of  it  to  pass 
through  the  affecting  occasions  of  domestic  life  in  im- 
movable apathy  :  the  heart  has  become  like  that  of  le- 
viathan, '  firm  as  a  stone,  yea,  hard  as  a  piece  of  the 
nether  millstone.'  "  It  also  unfits  the  individual  for  the 
sober  business  of  life  ;  inevitably  weakens  and  deadens 
moral  principle  ;  strengthens  vicious  propensities  ;  leads 
to  a  rejection  of  the  Gospel,  and  prepares  the  soul  for 
a  world  where  its  delusions  and  dreams  will  be  ex- 
changed for  the  most  appalling  realities. 

The  theatre  adds  to  these  evils  others  of  a  fearful 
character.  It  is  supported  by  intemperance  and  licen- 
tiousness, and  the  immorality  of  its  actors  is  well 
known.  It  has  ever  been  hostile  to  those  virtues  which 
make  society  happy  ;  and  it  is  distressing  to  think  of 
the  many  who,  in  attending  it,  commenced  or  prose- 
cuted a  career  which  has  ended  in  the  loss  of  health, 
property,  reputation,  life,  and  heaven.  Let  young  men 
be  on  their  guard.  Books  of  travels,  history,  science 
and  religion,  will  furnish  rich  food  for  their  minds,  and 
the  v^arious  institutions  designed  for  the  advancement 
of  the  temporal  and  eternal  welfare  of  man  will  afford 
ample  scope  for  the  cultivation  of  all  the  virtues  which 
adorn  humanity. 

9.  The  temptations  to  intemperance  still  beset  the  un- 
e^uarded.    From  the   large  army  of  drunkards  a  detach- 


12  TEMPTATIONS    OF    YOUNG    MEN. 

ment  of  several  thousand  is  every  year   consigned  to 
death.  But  the  army  does  not  decrease  :  the  young  men 
of  the  country  crowd  in  as  volunteers  to  fill  the  vacant 
places,  and  the  unbroken  host  moves  on  to  ruin.  While 
danger  is  altogether  unsuspected,  a  taste  for  intoxicat- 
ing drinks  is  gradually  formed  ;  repeated  gratifications 
increase  it,  and  soon  the  deluded  victim  of  this  vice 
becomes  abandoned.  When  entering  on  active  life,  ani- 
mated with  hope  and  cheered  by  the  devoted   attach- 
ment of  friends,  the  youth  would  think  as  complacently  of 
ending  his  life  in  a  dungeon  or  on  a  gibbet,  as  of  dying 
a  drunkard  ;  and  yet  many,  deceived  by  the   insidious 
approaches  of  intemperance,  have  gone  down,  through 
a  life  of  wretchedness,  to  a  death  of  infamy  and  an  eter- 
nity of  wo.  Young  man,  awake  to  a  knowledge  of  your 
state.    You  may  be  approaching  that  tremendous  whirl- 
pool whose  waters  have  engulfed  many  vessels  as  fair 
.md  staunch  as  your  own.    Listen  to  its  fearful  roar  ; 
look  beyond  and  see  the  shore  covered  with  the  drifted 
wrecks  of  human  genius,  and  greatness,  and  excellence  ; 
venture  not  even  to   its  outmost  verge.    Your  security 
consists  in  total  abstinence  from  the  intoxicating  agent. 
10.  Many  are  tempted  to  gambling.     In  this  we  in- 
clude betting  in  every  form,  encouraging  lotteries,  and 
the  irrational  practice  of  playing  at  games  of  chance. 
Property  is  a  trust  conferred  on  its  possessor,  and  for 
its  use  God  will  hold  him  responsible.  The  unprofitable 
servant,  who  only  buried  his  talent,  was  condemned  to 
outer  darkness;   with  how  much  severer   punishment 
must  he  be  visited  who,  by  betting,  throws  away,  with- 
out the  least  return,  the  possessions  committed  to  his 
charge  1     Lotteries  are  extensive  legalized  systems  of 
fraud,  by  which  a  few  are  enabled  to  possess  themselves 
of  the  hard  earnings  of  the  many  ;  and  with  all  other 
games  of  chance,  even  such  as  are  resorted  to  for  amuse- 
ment, are  wrong  :  they  involve  an  impious  appeal  to  the 


TEMPTATIONS    OF    YOUNG    MEN.  IS 

divine  throne,  and  are  a  wanton  profanation  of  the  lot, 
which  is  an  institution  of  God  for  special  religious  and 
moral  purposes.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  chance. 
"God's  kingdom  ruleth  over  all."  Ps.  103  :  19.  "The  lot 
is  cast  into  the  lap ;  but  the  whole  disposing  thereof  ir? 
of  the  Lord  5"  Prov.  16  :  33  ;  and  the  repeated  reference 
to  his  providence  on  the  most  trivial  occasions  must  be 
displeasing  to  him.  If  there  were  no  playing  for  amuse- 
ment there  would  be  no  gambling.  Those  who  begin 
without  any  anticipation  of  injury,  are  seduced  from 
step  to  step,  till  they  become  occasional  gamblers,  and 
some  go  so  far  as  to  make  it  a  profession.  The  lowest 
avarice,  and  the  most  disgusting  passions,  rule  in  the 
hearts  of  such  as  give  themselves  up  to  this  vice.  The 
endearing  ties  which  bind  the  man  to  his  family  and  so- 
ciety are  sundered,  he  becomes  an  outcast  from  all  holy 
and  restoring  influences,  an  associate  of  such  as  he  de- 
spises, and  a  prey  to  those  whose  tender  mercies  are 
cruel.  "Touch  not — handle  not,"  should  be  the  govern- 
ing motto  of  every  one  who  would  escape  this  evil. 

1 1.  A  temptation  must  now  be  mentioned  which  stands 
more  in  the  way  of  the  salvation  of  young  men  than 
perhaps  any  other.  It  is  one  which,  from  the  depravity 
of  our  nature,  operates  universally ;  and  though  the  ef- 
fects of  yielding  to  it  are  not  always  apparent,  they  are 
not  therefore  the  less  ruinous.  It  is  the  temptation  to 
licentiousness.  It  may  exist  unaccompanied  with  overt 
acts  of  transgression :  "I  say  unto  you,  that  whosoever 
looketh  on  a  woman  to  lust  after  her,  hath  committed 
adultery  with  her  already  in  his  heart."  Matt.  5 :  28. 
To  describe  its  extensive  and  injurious  influence  would 
be  impossible.  Where  it  is  simply  confined  to  the  heart, 
it  weakens  and  vitiates  the  intellectual  and  moral  pow- 
ers ;  and  where  practised  outwardly  is  fatal  to  all  virtue 
and  happiness.  It  produces  neglect  of  the  means  of 
grace,  leads  to   scepticism,  and  makes  man  "earthly, 

VOL.  X.  39* 


14  TEMPTATIONS    OF    YOUNG    MEN. 

sensual,  devilish."  It  commences  in  unguarded  impu- 
rity of  heart,  continues  in  debasement  of  life,  and  ends 
in  a  shattered  constitution,  early  death,  and  ceaseless 
pain  hereafter.  If  the  fire  is  not  already  burning  within 
and  consuming  him,  let  the  young  man  bear  in  mind 
that  he  carries  in  his  bosom  combustible  materials,  and 
he  must  keep  away  the  spark  which  would  inflame  them. 
Let  him  "keep  his  heart  with  all  diligence,"  Prov.  4: 
23,  restrain  his  imagination,  guard  against  idleness,  shun 
all  vicious  associations,  and  seek  the  purifying  and 
strengthening  influence  of  God's  grace  ever  to  be  with 
him. 

12.  The  present  age  oflers  remarkable  facilities  for 
accumulating  wealth ;  and  one  of  its  most  alarming 
evils  is  the  general  tendency  to  covet ousjiess.  This  word 
is  unpopular,  and  frequently  misunderstood  ;  but  so  far 
is  it  from  designating  an  imaginary  evil,  that  the  haste 
to  be  rich  witnessed  on  every  hand,  is  but  a  develope- 
ment  of  it.  What  a  heathen  poet  calls  '^  the  cursed 
thirst  for  gold,"  seems  to  bring  into  subordination,  or 
swallow  up,  all  other  interests.  The  value  of  wealth, 
wisely  used,  cannot  be  denied ;  but  it  can  never  be  ad- 
mitted that  God's  chief  design  in  the  glorious  works  of 
creation,  providence,  and  redemption,  was  to  enable  his 
immortal  creatures  to  hoard  up  treasures  which  cannot 
bless  them  in  eternity,  which  even  here  may  take  to 
themselves  wings  and  fly  away,  or  from  which  death 
may  tear  them  at  any  moment.  On  no  pursuit  has  he 
more  clearly  marked  his  disapprobation  than  this,  when 
carried  to  excess.  It  may  appear  more  reputable,  be- 
cause free  from  the  grosser  consequences  which  attend 
other  evil  courses,  but  is  more  to  be  feared  on  that 
account.  It  robs  its  possessor  of  self-respect,  and  the 
respect  of  others.  It  withers  his  sympathies  and  mur- 
ders his  conscience.  It  produces  habits  which  destroy 
all  susceptibility  for  the  enjoyment  of  riches  when  oh- 


TEMPTATIO.NS    OF     VOUJXG    MEiN.  lO 

tained.  "The  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil," 
I  Tim.  G  :  10,  and  much  of  the  war,  murder,  theft,  dis- 
honesty, slander,  quarrelling-,  dissipation,  and  licentious- 
ness which  has  cursed  the  earth,  originated  in  it  The 
Scriptures  plainly  declare  that  "covetousness  is  idola- 
try," Col.  3:5;  and  class  it  with  adultery,  and  all  the 
principal  sins  which  exist  in  the  world.  It  is  a  dis- 
position unprecedented  in  the  character  of  any  of  the 
children  of  God  mentioned  in  the  Scriptures.  One  spoke 
unadvisedly ;  another,  influenced  by  fear,  cursed  and 
swore  ;  a  third  was  betrayed  into  a  passion ;  a  fourth 
was  guilty  of  adultery — but  not  one  was  covetous. 

But  its  crowning  and  most  deadly  act  is  that  it  steals 
the  heart  from  God  ;  permits  his  day  of  gracious  visita- 
tion to  pass  unimproved,  and  brings  upon  those  w^ho 
would  be  rich  in  this  world,  everlastinsf  and  irretrieva- 
ble  poverty.  "  Labor  not  for  the  meat  which  perisheth, 
but  for  that  meat  which  cndureth  unto  everlasting  life." 
John,  6  :  27.  "  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the 
whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  1  or  what  shall  a  man 
give  in  exchange  for  his  soul."    Mark,  8  :  36,  37. 

Other  temptations  might  be  mentioned,  but  these  are 
the  most  common  and  dangerous.  A  general  remark 
must  sufiice  for  the  rest.  God  will  be  your  final  Judge, 
and  his  estimate  of  your  character  will  determine  your 
destiny.  What  he  approves  is  right,  what  he  forbids  is 
Avrong.  Whatever  would  lead  you  away  from  him  will 
bring  guilt  upon  you,  and  pierce  you  through  with  many 
sorrows.  No  circumstance  can  ever  justify  sin  against 
him.  If  you  would  have  his  approbation,  shun  the  very 
appearance  of  evil.  Indifference  to  temptation,  or  dal- 
lying w^ith  it,  will  lead  you  to  sin,  and  "  sin  when  it  is 
finished  bringeth  forth  death."  James,  1  :  15.  Your  un- 
dying soul  is  in  danger.  If  fire  consume  your  dwelling, 
you  can  rebuild  it  ;  if  disease  waste  your  health,  you 


16  TEMPTATIONS     Of    VOUNG    MEN. 

may  regain  it ;  if  slander  blight  your  reputation,  you 
may  repair  it ;  but  if  your  soul  is  lost,  all  is  gone* 
Once  lost  J  you  are  lost  for  ever. 

Young  men !  by  your  weighty  obligations  to  your 
country,  be  entreated  to  guard  against  sin,  for  it  is 
''  righteousness"  that  "  exalteth  a  nation."  By  your  so- 
lemn responsibilities  to  your  fellow-men,  be  induced  to 
exemplify  in  your  lives  the  purity  and  excellence  of 
the  Gospel.  By  your  dearest  and  most  important  in- 
terests, be  excited  to  "  walk  circumspectly,  not  as  fools, 
but  as  wise."  Eph.  5  :  15.  By  the  solemnities  of  the 
last  day  be  persuaded  to  make  the  needful  preparation 
to  meet  God,  through  repentance  for  sin  and  faith  in 
Jesus  Christ.  By  all  the  glories  that  cluster  around  the 
Redeemer's  cross,  be  constrained  to  "  yield  yourselves 
to  God."  Rom.  6  ;  13.  Seek,  before  every  thing  else, 
his  friendship  through  the  merits  of  his  Son.  This  will 
bring  you  lasting  peace  and  substantial  happiness ; 
will  cheer  the  darkest  hour  of  your  earthly  pilgrimage  j 
strengthen  you  under  the  heaviest  trial  which  awaits 
you  ;  convert  the  bed  of  death  into  a  scene  of  triumph, 
and  link  the  last  pang  of  expiring  nature  with  the  first 
rapture  of  never-ending  joy.  Engrave  upon  your  hearts 
the  advice  of  the  dying  king  of  Israel  to  his  royal  son, 
and  let  it  be  the  guide  of  your  existence  :  '*  Solomon, 
my  son,  know  thou  the  God  of  thy  father,  and  serve 
him  with  a  perfect  heart,  and  with  a  willing  mind  :  for 
the  Lord  searcheth  all  hearts,  and  understandeth  all  the 
imaginations  of  the  thoughts  :  if  thou  seek  him  he  wili 
be  found  of  thee ;  but  if  thou  forsake  him  he  will  cast 
thee  off  for  ever."  1  Chron.  28  :  9. 

(This  Tract  was  prepared  and  published  in  compliance  with  the 
dying  request  of  the  widow  of  the  lamented  Harlan  Page,  of  New- 
YorV:  city.) 


'  Wo.  402. 

COUNSELS  TO  A  YOUNG  MAN. 


A  Young  Man  ! — How  interesting  the  character  to 
the  christian  philanthropist !     In  him  he  contemplates  a 
spirit  immortal,  intelligent,  accountable,  just  commenc- 
ing an  endless  existence  amid  special  adv^antages  and 
peculiar  dangers.     And  he   sees  pending  on  the  first  di- 
rection of  its  course,  infinite  results  !  Let  me  then  af- 
fectionately  speak  to  the  youthful  reader  of  the  snares 
and  temptations  to  which  he  is  exposed.    These  are  both 
internal^  resulting  from  the  perversion  and  corruption  of 
the  intellectual  and  moral  powers  by  sin  j  and  external^ 
arising  from  surrounding  objects  of  sense.     The   latter, 
however,  derive  their  chief  power  from  their  alliance  to 
the  former.     It  is  its  own  native  depravity  that  has  thus 
brought  the  soul  into  subjection.     The  immortal  part  is 
controlled  by  that  which  is  jnortal ;  the  spiritual,  by  the 
animal  nature.   Such  is  the  melancholy  effect  of  the  apos- 
tacy,  and  hence  the  dangers  which  so  constantly  beset 
us.     In  the  ardent  season  of  youth,  the  peril  is  the  more 
imminent  with  the  increased  force  of  temptation. 

The  imagination  is  the  medium  through  which  our  in- 
sidious adversary  presents  some  of  his  most  fatal  snares, 
and  whatever  can  minister  aliment  to  a  vain  and  vicious 
imagination  should  be  most  vigilantly  shunned. 

Of  this  nature  are  most  of  the  fictitious  puhlicationft 
of  the  present  day.  The  perusal  of  these  you  ought  to 
consider  as  a  dangerous  snare.  At  no  former  period, 
perhaps,  has  the  press  poured  forth  so  profusely  this 
class  of  literature.  Decked  in  gaudy  attire,  and  embel- 
lished with  all  that  can  render  them  attractive,  these  ve- 
hicles too  often  of  licentiousness  and  infidelity,  are  scat- 


-J  COUNSELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN. 

tercd  through  the  land,  and  not  unfrequently  form  the 
ornaments  of  the  parlor  and  drawing-room.  There 
they  are  enshrined,  supplanting  the  useful  productions 
of  genius  and  science,  and  captivating  the  mind  and 
heart  by  their  fascinating  but  destructive  influence. 
Through  these  polished  magazines  of  temptation  the 
youthful  fancy  loves  to  rove,  feasting  on  its  poisonous 
sweets,  and  eagerly  pursuing  every  new  production  both 
as  an  incentive  and  a  gratifier  of  its  wayward  inclina- 
tions. That  some  of  these  productions  bear  the  im- 
press, and  merit  the  applause  of  great  mental  accomplish- 
ments, is  not  to  be  denied.  But  it  is  the  impress  of 
talent  perverted  and  abused.     And, 

"While  on  their  pages  genius  smiles, 
Religion  di.ops  a  tear. 

Intellectual  effort  not  being  required  to  any  consider- 
able degree  in  their  perusal,  the  mind  becomes  impover- 
ished amid  these  repeated  reveries  of  the  imagination, 
and  the  deluded  youth  is  gradually  unfitted  for  the  sober 
realities  of  life  5  disqualified  either  to  perform  its  rela- 
tive and  social  duties,  to  enjoy  its  rational  comforts,  or 
to  endure  its  necessary  and  common  afflictions.  The 
world  is  thus  contemplate^  through  a  false  medium,  by 
which  "beauty  is  painted  in  colors  more  charming 
than  nature,  and  happiness  described  which  man  never 
tastes ;"  and  as  quickly  as  the  vision  is  ended,  does  the 
mind  become  dissatisfied  with  itself,  and  disappointed 
in  all  with  which  it  finds  itself  connected.  I  have  watch- 
ed the  process  of  this  mental  and  moral  contamination.  I 
have  seen  young  persons  of  respectability  and  promise, 
with  their  attention  riveted  to  a  volume  which  their  con- 
sciences condemned,  and  which  they  felt  constrained  to 
conceal  from  their  parents.  But  so  fascinated  were  they 
with  its  attractions  that,  like  the  bird  fluttering  beneath 


COUNSELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN.  3 

the  fangs  of  the  basilisk,  or  like  our  first  mother  in  Eden, 
they  could  not  extricate  themselves. 

I  forbear  to  expatiate  on  the  prevalence  and  the  baleful 
influence  of  publications  more  directly  cherishing  licen- 
tiousness and  atheism,  and  the  more  than  questionable  ex- 
hibitions of  statuary  and  painting.  ^'  The  numbers  of  the 
poet,  the  delightful  melody  of  song,  the  fascinations  of  the 
chisel,  and  the  spell  of  the  pencil,  have  been  all  volun- 
teered for  the  moral  ruin  of  unhappy  man."  The  follow- 
ing resolution  of  an  accomplished  gentleman  and  orator, 
who  feared  God,*  affords  a  safe  rule  for  guidance  on 
this  subject.  Permit  me  to  recommend  it  to  your  at- 
tention and  adoption,  with  reference  to  this  whole  class 
of  temptations :  '^/  will  not  read  any  book  which  I 
should  be  unwilling  io  have  it  known  that  I  had  read,  or 
the  reading  of  which  I  shall  probably  recollect  with  regret 
on  my  dying  bed.''"' 

Theatrical  representations  are  also  a  powerful  auxiliary 
to  the  great  tempter  and  destroyer.  The  mind  especial- 
ly that  has  been  entranced  with  fiction  in  private,  will 
desire  to  see  the  scenes  of  unreal  mirth  and  wo  with 
which  it  has  been  conversant,  personified  upon  the 
stage.  Hence  novels  are  often  converted  into  plays. 
The  theatre  has  been  called  a  "  school  of  morals," 
and  its  false  exhibitions  of  joy  and  sorrow,  "  useful." 
But  this,  in  truth,  is  the  language  of  irony.  You  are 
probably  aware  that  the  theatre  originated  under  the 
government  and  rites  of  heathenism,  and  that  it  was 
denounced  even  by  heathen  moralists.  "  Plays,"  said 
Plato,  "  raise  the  passions  and  pervert  the  use  of  them, 
and  are  dangerous  to  morality."  Theatrical  exhibi- 
tions have  ever  been  condemned  in  christian  countries 
as  highly  immoral  in  their  tendency.  Even  the  infidel 
Rousseau,  though  he  wrote  for  the  stage,  resisted  the 

*  Rev.  Dr.  Porter,  late  of  the  Theological  Seminary,  Andover. 


4'  COUNSELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN. 

attempt  to  introduce  this  amusement  into  Geneva,  on 
the  ground  of  its  deeply  corrupting  influence.  It  may 
justly  be  styled  a  "  school  of  licentiousness^''''  for  within 
its  unhallowed  precincts  infatuated  youth  of  both  sexes 
learn  to  witness  without  a  blush,  and  to  hear  unshocked, 
what  would  not  be  endured  in  a  priv^ate  social  circle  of 
the  least  respectability.  To  say  nothing  of  the  avenues 
to  intemperance,  gaming,  and  crime  which  surround  the 
theatre  ;  there,  as  in  the  writings  of  fiction  and  ro- 
mance, the  mind  becomes  familiar  with  scenes  in  which 
virtue  is  oppressed,  and  vice  triumphs  and  is  vindicated 
under  every  false  and  deceptive  plea.  The  annals  of 
crime  furnish  the  most  melancholy  facts  in  countless 
detail,  to  illustrate  its  destructive  influence  on  the  cha- 
racter, the  prospects,  the  hopes,  in  short,  the  welfare, 
temporal  and  eternal,  of  the  young. 

The  passions  and  appetites,  operating  and  acted  upon 
through  the  medium  of  the  senses,  form  another  fruitful 
source  of  temptation;  their  predominance  over  the  reason 
and  judgment  is  almost  characteristic  of  early  life,  and 
is  the  cause  of  a  large  proportion  of  the  follies,  crimes, 
and  wretchedness,  which  mark  the  temporal  if  not  the 
everlasting  ruin  of  many  of  the  young.  Through  the  in- 
fluence of  an  excited  imagination,  perverted  by  such  in- 
strumentalities as  are  already  noticed,  the  arch-deceiver 
presents  the  enticements  of  sensual  pleasure.  Hence  the 
multiplied  warnings  of  experience  in  the  fate  of  innume- 
rable victims  are  generally  as  powerless  and  unheeded  as 
are  those  so  faithfully  and  graphically  drawn  on  the  sa- 
cred pages.  Alas,  too  often  the  syren  song  of  pleasure 
has  more  charms  for  unsuspecting  youth  than  the  voice 
of  heavenly  wisdom.  They  first  listen  to  her  delusive 
strains,  and  then  yield  themselves  living  sacrifices  to 
her  tyrannical  and  destructive  sway.  Loss  of  character, 
friends,  employment,  health,  and  life  follow  in  her  train; 
but  what  are  these,  compared  with  that  quenchless  rao-- 


COUNSELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN.  D 

ing  of  desire,  that  indelible  stain  of  guilt,  and  those  end- 
less stings  of  remorse,  treasured  up  against  that  day, 
when  the  results  of  such  a  career,  however  secret,  will  be 
felt  in  eternal  banishment  fronn  all  purity,  and  the  destruc- 
tion of  both  soul  and  body  in  hell !  If  you  would  shun 
the  vortex,  "keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence."  ''  Be  tem- 
perate in  all  things."  Avoid  every  avenue  of  temptation. 
'^  Touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not,"  under  any  form,  the 
cup  of  intoxication.  Be  employed  in  some  profitable 
study  or  useful  business  ;  for  idleness  is  the  fruitful 
parent  of  vice — the  handmaid  of  every  temptation. 

Your  social  feelings  likewise   expose  you  to    many 
temptations.    You  are  fond  of  society — a  trait  in  the  hu- 
man character  designed  to  be  a  source  of  our  highest 
earthly  enjoyment,  and  which,  when  rightly  controll- 
ed and  directed,  especially  when  governed  by  the  prin- 
ciples of  piety  in  the  heart,  is  still  promotive  of  much  of 
our  comfort  and  aid  on  life's  pilgrimage.     But  it  is  a 
painful  truth,  that  our  social  nature  has  been  rendered, 
by  sin,  an  instrument   of  mutual   corruption  and   ruin, 
through  the  force  of  example.    Such  is  the  depravity  of 
the  heart,  that  it  gives  to  vicious  example,  and  evil  com- 
munications, a  cordial  reception.    The  soil  is  adapted  to 
the  seed  ;  and  having  contracted  such  an  intimacy  with 
others  as  to  yield  to  them  your  confidence,  the  seeds  of 
vice  and  infidelity  may  be  easily  and  thickly   sown   in 
your  heart  when  you  are  least  aware.     When  persons 
meet  but  seldom,  and   in  public   or   among  strangers,  a 
natural  caution,  or  motives  of  policy,  may  induce  an  ar- 
tificial demeanor  which  disguises  their  true  characters; 
yet  even   in   such  circumstances  evil   example    is  not 
without  its  influence.    But  the  intimacy  of  private  friend- 
ship and  frequent  social  intercourse,  in  which  restraint 
is  thrown   off,  and  secret   feelings  and  sentiments   are 
disclosed,  affords  the  greatest   facilities  to  the  tempter. 
You  will,  I   presume,  readily  admit  that  such  intimacy 

VOL.   X.  40 


b  COUNSELS    TO    A    YOUiNG    MAN. 

with  a  bold  profligate,  or  one  who  is  under  no  influence 
but  that  of  an  unsubdued  will  and  unbridled  passions 
and  appetites,  is  extremely  hazardous  to  a  young  man. 
And  I  trust  you  have  contracted  no  such  friendships, 
or  if  you  have,  that  you  will  immediately  abandon  them, 
as  you  value  your  moral  character  and  immortal  welfare. 
The  example  and  influence  of  open  profligacy,  how- 
ever, though  very  corrupting,  is  not  the  most  ensnaring  j 
for  it  often  counteracts  itself  by  its  shocking  impiety, 
and  disgusts  rather  than  allures  a  reflecting  mind.  It  is 
the  companionship  of  those  whose  frivolity,  practical 
infidelity,  and  supreme  devotedness  to  pleasure,  are 
blended  with  much  amiableness  of  disposition,  attrac- 
tiveness of  manner,  refinement  of  taste,  mental  cultiva- 
tion, and  propriety  of  outward  deportment,  that  wins 
the  confidence  of  the  youthful  heart.  They  often  profess 
and  manifest  much  respect  for  the  institutions  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  not  unfreqently  maintain  a  ''  form  of  godli- 
ness." The  following  lines  present  the  general  features 
of  their  portraiture  : 

"  Mine  be  the  friend  less  frequent  in  his  prayers, 

"  Who  makes  no  bustle  with  his  soul's  affairs, 

"  Whose  wit  can  brighten  up  a  Mdntry  day, 

"  And  chase  the  spleen  of  life's  dull  hours  away; 

"  Leaves  saints  to  enjoy  the  mysteries  they  teach, 

"  And  plucks  the  fruit  placed  more  within  his  reach." 

If  your  feelings  and  preference  in  the  selection  of  your 
companions  accord  with  this  language,  you  may  soon 
place  yourself,  if  you  have  not  already  done  so,  within 
the  fatal  vortex  of  licentious  dissipation.  All  the  temp- 
tations which  I  have  specified  will  throng  around  you 
with  increased  power,  from  the  influence  of  such  asso- 
ciates. The  restraints  of  conscience  and  a  religious 
education,  if  you  have  been  blessed  with  one,  will  be 
gradually  thrown  ofl^.     You  will   be  tempted   in  the  out- 


COUJSSELS    TO    A    YOUiNG    MAN.  7 

set  to  dismiss  those  serious  thoughts  which  are  essen- 
tially connected  with  the  future  welfare  of  the  soul. 
Your  facilities  for  poisoning  the  mind  and  hardening  the 
heart  through  the  imagination  will  be  augmented  ;  and 
from  the  more  refined  works  of  fiction  and  folly  you  will 
soon  be  introduced  to  an  acquaintance  with  the  gross- 
er productions  of  licentiousness  and  infidelity.  When 
thus  your  imagination  has  become  corrupted  and  your 
conscience  seared,  if  not  before,  you  will  feel  no  reluc- 
tance in  a  frequent  resort  to  the  scenes  of  dissipation. 

Among  these,  in  addition  to  the  theatre,  are  the 
chamber  of  mirth  and  professed  parties  of  pleasure.  I 
mean  such  pleasure  as  expels  seriousness  and  even  re- 
flection, unfits  the  heart  for  devotion,  and  renders  it 
averse  to  self-scrutiny  and  meditation  in  solitude  5  plea- 
sure^ which  reason  as  well  as  the  Bible  condemns,  for 
its  inconsistency  with  the  character  and  circumstances 
of  man  as  a  sinner,  and  with  his  destiny  as  an  heir  of 
immortality ;  pleasure^  in  the  pursuit  or  enjoyment  of 
which  you  cannot  pray,  and  dare  not  die.  Whatever 
has  such  an  influence  over  the  mind  and  heart,  must,  in 
its  very  nature,  be  dangerous  to  your  highest  interests, 
although  it  may  receive  from  the  world  the  stamp  of 
innocency.  To  these  scenes  of  dissipation  you  may  be 
often  allured,  and,  ere  you  are  aware,  become  devoted. 

Under  this  overwhelming  influence  from  the  "  lovers 
of  pleasure  more  than  lovers  of  God,"  there  is  another 
tendency  of  the  youthful  heart  which  adds  strength  to 
temptation — its  proneness  to  overrate  or  form  a  wrong 
estimate  of  worldly  happiness.  Reason  teaches  that  our 
natures  require  sources  of  enjoyment  more  exalted  and 
enduring  than  the  transient  objects  of  time.  Experience 
seconds  the  admonitions  of  reason.  The  pathway  of  the 
young  is  guarded  with  beacons,  rising  amid  the  wretch- 
edness of  the  unhappy  victims  to  amusement  and  illicit 
pleasure,  warning  of  the  impending  danger,  while  the 


8  COUNSELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN. 

oracles  of  God  present  the  same  caution,  both  by  pre- 
cept and  example,  on  almost  every  page.  They  de- 
nounce as  pernicious  and  destructive  to  the  soul,  every 
scheme  and  object  in  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  which  ia 
at  variance  with  the  divine  commands,  and  with  an  ha- 
bitual preparation  for  death  and  the  scenes  beyond  it. 
Yet  notwithstanding  these  counsels  from  reason,  expe- 
rience, and  revelation,  there  is  no  truth  which  the  young 
seem  so  reluctant  to  accredit,  as  that  mere  worldly  hap- 
piness, from  whatever  object  it  is  sought,  lies  chiefly 
in  anticipation;  and,  when  attained,  is  transient  and  un- 
satisfying. They  still  pursue  the  visionary  chase,  urged 
onward  by  the  example  and  influence  of  others,  until 
personal  experience  alone  brings  them  to  reflection. 

Let  me  also  caution  you  against  those  appeals  which 
may  be  made  to  your  pride,  your  curiosity,  or  your 
love  of  variety,  to  draw  you  into  the  snares  which  the 
world  presents  under  the  disguise  of  happiness.  These 
appeals  are  usually  made  through  the  medium  oi  fashion 
or  the  prevailing  customs  and  opinions  of  society.  The 
power  of  fashion  in  the  dissemination  of  vice  is  very 
manifest.  You  may  have  observed  with  what  self-com- 
placency the  youthful  disciple  in  the  school  of  intem- 
perance calls  for  the  social  dram  with  his  companions ; 
utters  the  half-learned  epithets  of  fashionable  profane- 
ness ;  and  relates  his  adventures  in  some  Sunday  frolic 
or  scene  of  fashionable  dissipation.  With  what  an  air 
of  self-consequence  does  he  spurn  parental  authority, 
if  indeed  he  has  ever  been  made  acquainted  with  it ; 
and  with  what  aping  of  manhood  and  "  swelling  words 
of  vanity"  does  he  talk  about  the  prejudices  of  educa- 
tion I  Perhaps  through  no  medium  does  the  force  of  un- 
godly example  harden  the  heart  and  sear  the  conscience 
more  rapidly  than  that  of  fashion.  To  say  nothing  of 
the  pecuniary  risks  and  embarrassments  to  which  her 
extravagant  demands  in  dress,  equipage,  and  style  of  liv- 


COU^'SELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN. 


ing  tempt  her  votaries ;  they  are  gradually  unfitted  for 
usefulness,  and  even  for  the  enjoyment  of  their  own 
schemes  of  happiness.  You  cannot  guard  too  cautiously 
against  the  influence  of  fashion  over  your  social  feel- 
ings, and  against  the  temptations  which  are  thus  so 
thickly  spread  around  you  to  overrate  and  inordinately 
pursue  worldly  happiness. 

The  following  is  not  a  solitary,  nor  even  a  rare  oc- 
currence :  A  youth  of  pious  education  and  of  promise, 
becomes  intimately  associated  with  an  amiable,  intelli- 
gent, and  genteel  libertine,  until,  attracted  by  his  fasci- 
nating manners  and  generous  disposition,  he  prefers 
his  society  and  yields  him  implicit  confidence.  His 
seducer  recites  some  of  the  less  appalling  feats  in  his 
own  career  5  perhaps  the  pleasures  of  the  race-ground, 
the  frolics  of  the  chase,  or  the  fascinations  of  the  ball- 
room or  theatre.  With  the  aid  of  romance  the  youth 
is  next  induced  to  draw  an  invidious  contrast  between 
the  restraints  of  home  and  the  libertinism  of  his  mis- 
named friend^  until  his  prejudices  are  enlisted  against 
the  former  and  in  favor  of  the  latter.  Having  heard  with 
interest  the  description,  he  is  easily  tempted,  and  soon 
brought  within  the  giddy  whirl  of  amusement. 

As  he  is  borne  onward  from  one  scene  of  dissipation 
to  another,  he  is  brought  to  the  gaming-table^  under 
some  one  of  its  more  genteel  forms,  and,  at  first,  merely 
as  a  means  of  diversion.  Accustomed  from  childhood 
to  associate  gaming  with  crime  and  infamy,  he  is  start- 
led at  the  temptation.  But  the  presence  of  his  asso- 
ciates, and  especially  the  influence  of  his  friend^  (who 
may  have  also  secured  him  in  the  fetters  of  pecuniary 
obligation^)  embolden  him  to  throw  ofi^  these  "  preju- 
dices of  the  nursery."  Thus  the  check  which  an  enfee- 
bled conscience  attempted  to  give,  is  stifled,  and  that 
faithful  monitor  is  resisted  into  silence.  He  becomes 
a  skilful    gambler,    and    finds   the   midnight   hours    too 

VOL.  X.  40* 


10  COUNSELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN. 

short  for  his  engagements.  Fatigue  and  exhaustion 
afford  a-  ready  apology  for  tasting  the  cup  of  intoxica- 
t.io7i  in  the  shape  of  wine,  cordial,  or  some  other  of  its 
more  inviting  forms,  and  he  retires  from  the  scene  en- 
tranced with  its  fascinations.  He  is  now  of  course  an 
easy  prey  to  these  temptations.  He  soon  becomes  a 
manage?'  in  these  sports  of  ungodliness ;  and  at  length, 
through  covetousness  or  pecuniary  embarrassment,  is 
led  to  employ  the  gaming-table  in  all  its  forms  as  a 
source  of  unjust  gain,  and  ultimately  as  an  altar  on 
which  he  sacrifices  all  his  temporal  prospects.  Disap- 
pointment and  pecuniary  ruin  now  render  any  intoxi- 
cating draught  a  welcome  solace.  The  haunts  of  idle- 
ness and  infamy  become  his  habitual  resort,  and  his  as- 
sociates are  now  the  abandoned  and  the  vile.  Eeduced 
to  penury,  stript  of  character,  and  corrupted  by  sensu- 
ality, he  becomes  the  victim  of  disease,  or  the  reckless 
perpetrator  of  crime  ;  and  the  dram-shop,  the  brothel, 
the  prison,  the  gallows,  or  some  other  miserable  end, 
form  the  waymarks  of  his  course  to  perdition.  "  Blessed 
is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of  the  ungod- 
ly, nor  standeth  in  the  way  of  sinners,  nor  sitteth  in 
the  seat  of  the  scornful."  Stand  aloof,  I  beseech  you, 
my  young  friend,  from  the  companionship  of  the  liber- 
tine, the  free-thinker,  and  all  who  evince  by  their  con- 
duct that  they  '^  fear  not  God,  neither  regard  man." 

Another  general  class  of  temptations  to  which  you 
are  peculiarly  exposed  at  the  present  day  and  in  this 
country,  are  those  which  arise  from  the  genius  of  our 

GOVERNMENT,  AND  THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  AGE. 

The  current  of  popular  feeling  is  strongly  towards 
natural  liberty,  or  the  removal  of  all  coercion  from  in- 
dividual passion  and  inclination.  It  is  on  this  feeling 
that  infidelity  fastens  its  cold  and  iron  grasp,  and  en- 
slaves the  mind  under    the  pretence  of  free-thinking. 


COUNSELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN.  H 

The  disposition  which  cannot  brook  the  restraint  of 
faithful  domestic  government,  or  has  never  been  sub- 
dued by  such  restraint,  is  that  which  sets  at  defiance 
the  law  of  God,  and  ultimately,  civil  authority.  The 
same  influence  Avhich  would  tempt  you  to  obliterate  the 
impressions  of  early  religious  instruction,  and  to  resist 
those  salutary  monitions  of  conscience  which  result 
from  such  instruction,  will,  if  cherished,  soon  destroy 
your  confidence  in  divine  revelation  and  the  truths  of 
the  christian  religion. 

You  are  beset  with  temptations  also,  in  the  multiplied, 
various,  and  often  conflicting  objects  of  attention,  all 
claiming  the  sanction  of  religious  obligation,  which, 
through  the  freedom  of  the  press,  are  constantly  pre- 
sented to  the  public  mind  When  I  reflect  on  these  in- 
fluences, and  the  boldness  of  the  advocates  of  infidelity, 
who  say  "  Our  lips  are  our  own,  who  is  lord  over  us  1" 
I  feel  that  you  stand  in  jeopardy  every  hour.  Guard 
especially  against  that  -spirit  of  self-confidence,  which, 
in  connection  with  this  feeling  of  scepticism,  Avill  tempt 
you  to  arraign  God's  revelation  at  the  bar  of  reason^  as 
the  umpire  not  only  of  what  it  does,  but  of  what  it  ought 
or  ouo-ht  not  to  contain.  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  ask  for 
the  old  paths,  where  is  the  good  way,  and  walk  there- 
in, and  ye  shall  find  rest  for  your  souls." 

The  spirit  of  enterprise  and  of  change  which  charac- 
terises the  present  age,  is  likely  to  generate  a  lauiess 
ambition — an  eagerness  for  preferment — that  is  reckless 
of  the  means  employed  to  obtain  it.  Such  a  disposi- 
tion can  be  cherished,  and  such  a  course  of  conduct  pur- 
sued, only  by  the  abandonment  of  all  moral  principle, 
and  the  sacrifice  of  the  soul  to  a  fickle  popularity  Un- 
der a  government  like  ours,  where  the  offices  of  trust 
and  authority  are  open  to  all,  and  the  aspirants  are  mul- 
tiform and  numerous,  the  temptations  to  such  a  derelic- 
tion of  moral  principle  are  powerful  and  dangerous.  It 


12  COUNSELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN. 

is  not  necessary  to  specify  the  practiced  arts  of  bribery, 
deceit,  intrigue,  hypocrisy,  falsehood  and  perjury,  or  to 
point  you  to  examples  of  such  sacrifice  of  character  and 
principle,  which  are  more  than  sufficient  to  warn  you 
against  this  class  of  temptations. 

The  production  in  the  heart  of  an  inordinate  love 
of  gain,  is  another  tendency  of  the  prevalent  spirit  of 
enterprise.  At  no  period  of  our  country's  history,  per- 
haps, have  the  temptations  which  the  love  of  money 
presents  to  a  young  man,  been  so  numerous  and  formida- 
ble. He  is  surrounded  by  the  example  of  his  superiors 
in  age  and  experience,  who  may  be  accumulating  thou- 
sands by  the  transactions  of  an  hour  or  the  throw 
of  a  die,  and  by  the  multitude  incessantly  driving  for- 
ward in  the  competition  for  wealth.  Amid  this  current 
of  example,  and  especially  if  intimately  associated  with 
those  who,  though  they  may  profess  better  things,  are 
"  making  haste  to  be  rich,"  you  are  exposed  to  become 
a  devotee  of  mammon;  and  as  such  you  will  be  tempted 
by  some  of  its  numerous  snares  to  barter  your  soul  for 
money  !  Passing  by,  at  present,  the  fearful  warnings  of 
the  Bible  on  this  point,  which  declares  a  supreme  de- 
votedness  to  wealth  to  be  an  insuperable  barrier  be- 
tween the  sinner  and  heaven — more  difficult  to  over- 
come than  for  "  a  camel  to  pass  through  the  eye  of  a 
needle" — let  me  specify  a  few  of  these  temptations. 

Under  the  plea  of  '^enterprise"  the  inordinate  pur- 
suit of  wealth  will  tempt  you  to  adopt  and  practise 
measures  for  its  attainment  inconsistent  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  strict  justice  and  equity.  "  As  honest  as  the 
times  will  admit,"  is  a  phrase,  too  frequently  expressive 
of  real  character.  Your  business  may  be  one  which  is  at 
variance  with  the  interests  of  your  neighbor,  as  the 
manufacture  and  sale  of  intoxicating  drink,  the  vending 
of  lottery  tickets,  or  the  furnishing  of  other  means 
of  gaming  and  dissipation,   and  thus  indicate  that  you 


COUMSELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN.  13 

have  lowered  your  standard  of  morality  down  to  a  pal- 
pable violation  of  the  Saviour's  golden  rule  of  equity. 

Or  if  your  business  be  in  itself  proper  and  respec- 
table, an  excessive  thirst  for  gain  may  tempt  you  to 
some  of  those  "  tricks  of  trade,"  so  called,  which  heap 
guilt  upon  the  conscience  and  ruin  the  soul.  Of  this 
nature  are  the  concealment  of  defects  in  articles  sold  j 
extravagant  and  false  recommendations  of  their  qualities  ; 
exorbitant  and  extortionate  charges  5  unjust  deprecia- 
tion of  the  goods  of  another ;  oppression  of  the  hireling 
in  his  wages ;  unjust  weights  and  measures ;  adultera- 
tion and  deception  in  those  articles  which  are  suscep- 
tible of  it,  both  in  their  original  manufacture  and  subse- 
quently, and  other  similar  practices.  In  some  forms  of 
business,  breaches  of  trust,  or  speculations  on  borrowed 
capital,  may  tempt  you  to  leave  your  creditors  penny- 
less,  while  you  live  secure  from  want,  if  not  luxuriously, 
but  with  "  a  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery 
indiofnation." 

I  might  speak  of  usury,  avarice,  and  a  host  of  other 
temptations,  incident  to  the  inordinate  love  of  pecuniary 
gain.  But  they  are  innumerable.  J^egled  of  the  means 
of  salvation^  and  a  desecration  of  the  Sabbath  to  secular 
purposes,  are  not  the  least  among  them.  "  They  that 
will  be  rich  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare,  and  into 
many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown  men 
in  destruction  and  perdition.  For  the  love  of  money 
is  the  root  of  all  evil."  Mark  this  declaration.  Suc- 
cess in  the  pursuit  of  wealth  is  not  necessary  to  bring 
you  within  its  ensnaring  and  ruinous  influence.  The 
supreme  love  of  mammon  may  be  as  fatal  to  the  soul 
amid  the  entire  defeat  of  its  wishes,  as  under  the  noon- 
tide of  prosperity.  Ungratified  covetousness,  especially 
when  incited  by  the  demands  of  dissipated  habits  and 
love  of  sensual  indulgence,  exposes  its  subject  to  the 
temptations  of  fraud,   theft,  forgery,  and  other   similar 


14  COUNSEJ.S    TO    A    YOUA'G    MAN. 

crimes,  which  result  in  ruin  even  for  the  present  life. 
Your  be«t  safeguard  on  this  subject  is  the  acquirement 
and  preservation  of  that  frame  of  mind  which,  in  sub- 
mission to  the  divine  will,  prompted  the  prayer  of  Agur  ; 
"  Give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches ;  feed  me  wifli 
food  convenient  for  me.  Lest  I  be  full  and  deny  thee, 
and  say.  Who  is  the  Lord  I  or  lest  I  be  poor  and  steal, 
and  take  the  name  of  my  God  in  vain  " 

I  will  allude  to  but  one  other  class  of  temptations  to 
which  you  are  peculiarly  exposed.  This  is  especially 
an  age  of  revivals  of  religion,  or  of  the  mission  of  the 
Holy  Spirit.  You  will  be  surrounded  by  these  gracious 
movements,  and  may  sometimes  feel  their  influence  on 
your  own  mind.  You  will  therefore  be  tempted  to  sin 
against  this  blessed  agent  in  these  his  vital  operations, 
and  thus  seal  your  own  death-warrant  for  eternity. 
Guard,  I  entreat  you,  against  every  emotion  of  levity  or 
indifference,  to  say  nothing  of  contempt  and  ridicule, 
which  at  any  time  may  arise  in  your  mind  on  this  sub- 
ject. Avoid  treating  with  similar  feelings,  or  even  with 
neglect,  the  Sabbath,  the  sanctuary,  the  holy  Scriptures, 
and  other  means  which  God  has  appointed  and  blessed 
for  human  salvation.  Rather  give  them  the  place  they 
merit  in  your  esteem  and  attention ;  and  above  all  other 
things,  welcome  and  strive  to  secure  to  your  own  soul 
the  abiding  influences  of  the  Spirit  of  grace,  as  your 
only  basis  for  hope,  and  your  only  security  against  the 
many  snares  which  beset  you  on  your  pilgrimage  to 
the  grave. 

And  now,  my  dear  young  friend,  I  must  bid  you  fare- 
well, with  the  parting  exhortation  to  remember  that  you 
are  travelling  to  the  grave,  and  to  an  endless  retribu- 
tion. If  death  should  spare  you,  you  will  soon  pass  the 
spring-time  of  your  existence,  which,  if  wasted  or  neg- 
lected, can  never  be  redeemed.  Your  character  and  des- 
tiny, for  this  world  and  the  next,  depend   on  the  stamp, 


COUNSELS    TO    A    VOUIsG    MAN.  15 

virtuous  or  vicious,  which  that  character  now  receives. 
Your  preparation  to  meet  and  sustain  the  responsibili- 
ties connected  with  your  approaching  domestic  and  civil 
relations  in  life,  is  closely  connected  with  your  avoid- 
ance of  the  snares  which  are  so  thickly  spread  around 
you.  Yield  yourself  up  to  any  one  of  them — make  the 
fatal  resolve  to  test  by  your  own  experience  the  truth 
of  these  warnings,  instead  of  trusting  to  them — and  you 
make  shipwreck  of  virtue,  character,  influence,  happi- 
ness, all  that  renders  life  valuable  or  even  supportable. 
Your  character  forms  rapidly  ;  your  habits  "  grow  with 
your  growth  and  strengthen  with  your  strength."  Think 
of  this,  if  you  are  looking  forward  to  old  age,  that  your 
"  bones"  may  not  be  "  full  of  the  sin  of  your  youth." 
Beware  of  every  thing  by  which  impurity  and  licen- 
tiousness of  thought,  imagination,  or  design,  may  be 
awakened  in  the  mind.  Avail  yourself  of  the  moral 
seed-time  of  youth  to  ''  sow  to  the  Spirit,  that  you  may 
of  the  Spirit  reap  life  everlasting." 

Remember  "  it  is  rare  to  see  the  gray  hairs  of  devo- 
tion silver  the  head  which  was  not  early  taught  of  hea- 
ven 5"  and  that  "  early  scholars  in  religion  are  the  best, 
for  they  have  less  to  unlearn."  There  is  reason  to  hope 
that  in  your  case  the  work  of  eradicating  evil  habits 
and  of  forming  those  of  holy  love  and  obedience,  if  he- 
gun  now,  would  not  be  like  the  Ethiopian's  changing 
his  skin  and  the  leopard  his  spots.  If  it  is  necessary  to 
"  seek  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found ;"  how  cheering 
the  declaration,  '*  They  that  seek  me  early  shall  find 
me."  And  yet  the  same  inspired  word  forbids  post- 
ponement to  old  age.  Its  promises  are  limited  to  a 
present  compliance  with  the  terms  of  salvation. 

Keep  your  mind  fixed  on  your  destiny  as  an  heir  of 
immortality.  Reflect  on  the  eternal  progressiveness  of 
the  soul.  There  will  be  a  point  in  its  existence  when  it 
may  enjoy  or  sufler  in  a  degree  equal  to  all  human  en- 


16  COUNSELS    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN. 

ioyment  or  suffering  in  time.  How  important  that  now, 
at  its  setting-  out,  there  be  implanted  in  its  deathless 
nature  those  principles  of  thought,  feeling  and  action, 
which  will  bear  thus  to  be  continued  and  expanded. 
Think  of  pride,  hatred,  revenge,  envy,  lust,  jealousy, 
covetousness  and  similar  passions,  carried  forward  into 
this  fearful,  this  amazing  expansion  !  Think  of  the  power 
of  conscience  to  inflict  its  stingfs,  when  it  shall  have  ac- 
cumulated  strength  from  this  wasteless  experience. 
Think  of  the  indelible  impressions  of  memory^  from  the 
first  moment  of  its  activity  to  that  imaginary  point  in 
its  course  of  retention :  impressions  unnoticed  perhaps 
as  they  pass,  as  if  written  with  sympathetic  ink,  but 
which  will  be  brought  out  in  full  transparency  by  the 
light  of  eternity. 

And  how  terrible  the  thought,  that  these  eternally  le- 
gible impressions  should  be  those  of  impurity  and  guilt, 
derived  from  the  written  and  oral  communications,  or 
the  pictorial  representations  and  actual  scenes  of  licen- 
tiousness I  Surely  this  will  be  aliment  to  the  worm  that 
dieth  not,  and  fuel  to  the  fire  that  never  shall  be  quench- 
ed. Such  impressions  may  now  be  made  as  easily  as  on 
wax,  but  they  will  endure  as  if  graven  in  eternal  brass. 
"  Keep  thyself  pure."  Guard  your  immortal  mind  from 
every  thought  and  purpose  which  you  would  not  have 
retained  and  reflected  for  ever.  Let  your  prayer  ever 
be,  "  Lead  me  not  into  temptation."  "  Cleanse  thou 
me  from  secret  faults."  "  Keep  back  thy  servant  also 
from  presumptuous  sins,  let  them  not  have  dominion 
over  me."  "  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  0  God,  and  re- 
new a  right  spirit  within  me." 


A  wish  expressed  on  the  dyiug-bed  of  the  widow  of  the  late  Harlan  Page,  of 
New-York,  led  to  the  preparation  aud  issuing  of  the  above. 


i\o.  403. 

"  IF  ANY  MAN  THIRST,  LET  HIM  COME 
UNTO  ME  AND  DRINK." 


Some  years  ago  I  spent  the  summer  at Springs. 

Standing  one  day  by  the  fountain  where  the  crowd  gathered 
to  drink  health-giving  water,  I  was  forcibly  reminded  of 
these  gracious  words  of  our  blessed  Saviour :  *'  If  any  man 
thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink." 

Multitudes  were  pressing  to  obtain  a  draught  of  water. 
Every  age,  sex,  and  condition  were  represented.  The  old 
tottered  to  the  spring,  and  raised  the  glass  with  a  trembling- 
hand.  The  young  stood  there  in  the  flower  and  beauty  of 
youth,  with  light  hearts,  and  laughing  eyes,  and  cheeks  that 
blushed  with  health  and  happiness.  The  sick  were  sup- 
ported on  the  arms  of  friends,  and  as  they  drank,  the  sunken 
eye  was  lighted  with  the  hope  of  returning  life.  Some  were 
there  from  the  far  south,  and  some  from  foreign  shores ; 
some  rolled  along  in  their  splendid  carriages,  and  some  came 
leaning  on  a  staff.  A  mixed  multitude  gathered,  as  the 
crowds  of  old  around  the  pool  of  Bethesda. 

I  thought  again,  if,  in  some  distant  and  almost  inacces- 
sible spot,  a  spring  should  be  discovered  whose  waters  pos- 
sessed the  power  of  conferring  imrnortality,  with  the  bloom 
of  beauty  and  youth,  the  strength  of  manhood,  and  the  wis- 
dom of  age,  on  all  who  should  come  and  drink,  what  crowds 
would  gather  there,  that  they  might  taste  and  never  die. 
How  the  news  of  the  discovery  would  spread  from  city  to 
city,  from  land  to  land.  From  every  kindred,  and  people, 
and  tongue  under  the  whole  heaven,  they  would  come  and 
"  take  of  the  water  of  life  freel3^"  No  expense  of  time  and 
money  would  prevent  millions  from  flying  thither. 

Again,  the  sound  of  a  Saviour's  voice,  with  the  tender- 
ness of  heaven  in  its  tones  of  love,  seemed  to  fall  on  the  ear 
as  it  said,  "  Whosoever  drinketh  of  the  water  that  I  shall 
give  him,  shall  never  thirst ;  but  it  shall  be  in  him  a  well 
of  water  springing  up  into  everlasting  life."  This  is  the 
spring  that  confers  immortality  on  those  who  drink. 

A  dauo-hter  of  Samaria  came  to  draw  water,  and  the 
Saviour  of  the  world  sat  resting  on  the  well.  He  asked  her 
for  that  water  of  which  if  a  man  drink  he  shall  thirst  again  ; 
VOL.  X.  41 


2  IF  ANY  MAN  THIRST, 

but  he  offered  her  water  from  the  vv^ell  of  eternal  Hfe,  Here 
at  the  springs  the  sons  and  daughters  of  pleasure,  and  the 
children  of  sorrow  and  care,  were  coming  to  draw  water, 
and  I  longed  to  cry  in  their  heaiing,  "  Ho,  every  one  that 
thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters  ;  and  he  that  hath  no 
money,  come  ye,  buy  and  eat ;  yea,  come,  buy  wine  and 
milk  without  money  and  without  price." 

These  words  of  the  prophet  and  those  of  the  Saviour  are 
figurative,  but  they  are  as  full  of  meaning  as  they  are  of 
beauty.  DavcII  on  them,  dear  reader,  and  admire  them,  for 
they  are  addressed  to  thee ;  and  happy  shalt  thou  be  if 
thou  dost  yield  to  the  sweet  invitation,  and  drink  and  live 
for  ever. 

Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners.  To 
make  their  salvation  possible,  he  poured  out  his  blood  like 
water,  and  opened  a  fountain  for  the  cleansing  of  sin.  That 
fountain  he  presents  under  the  striking  emblem  of  water,  to 
show  its  cleansing  power,  its  health-imparting  influence,  its 
freeness  and  inexhaustible  abundance.  For  such  as  you  he 
opened  this  fountain,  and  had  his  eye  on  just  such  sinners, 
when  he  cried,  "  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me 
and  drink." 

It  is  a  precious  invitation.  Heaven  never  sent  a  sweeter. 
Accept  that  invitation,  and  you  will  secure  the  forgiveness 
of  your  sins,  and  justijication  before  God.  You  need  par- 
don. You  are  a  great  sinner.  This  your  conscience  tells 
you.  This  your  Bible  tells  you.  Your  sins  are  in  number 
like  the  sands  on  the  sea-shore,  or  the  stars  in  heaven.  They 
are  very  great :  committed  against  great  light ;  you  knew 
your  duty,  but  did  it  not :  committed  against  great  love ; 
you  knew  the  blessed  Saviour  died  on  the  cross  for  poor 
sinners,  but  you  slighted  his  dying  blood  and  despised  his 
bleeding  love.  You  deserve  to  be  punished  for  such  sins. 
You  will  be  punished  unless  you  are  pardoned.  The  holy 
and  inflexible  law  of  Jehovah,  whose  penalty  is  eternal 
death,  you  have  broken,  and  you  must  die  unless  another 
die  in  your  room.  Jesus  Christ  oflers  to  become  the  justi- 
fier  of  him  who  believes.  He  becomes  his  substitute.  His 
sufferings  under  the  law  of  God  will  be  accepted  in  the 
stead  of  yours,  if  you  will  come  and  trvist  in  him.  Thus  the 
law  will  be  sustained,  and  the  sinner  saved.  God  can  be 
just,  and   justify  the  ungodly  who  believeth.     This  is  a 


LET  HIM  COME  UNTO  ME  AND  DRIiNK.  3 

simple  plan — the  gospel  plan.  It  commends  itself  to  you 
as  the  only  plan  by  Avhich  you  can  be  delivered  from  the 
curse  of  tlie  law. 

But  beyond  all  this,  if  you  come  to  Christ  he  will  grant 
the  sanctification  of  your  soul.  When  your  past  sins  have 
been  forgiven,  the  work  of  sanctification  is  begun,  and  only 
begun.  Your  heart  is  yet  full  of  uncleanness.  It  is  vile, 
and  abominable,  and  offensive  in  the  sight  of  God.  Its 
desires  are  impure,  and  rebellious,  and  Avicked.  And  with 
such  a  heart  you  cannot  be  happy  here,  and  could  not  be 
happ)"  in  heaven.  You  must  be  made  holy,  or  you  cannot 
be  made  happy.  Christ  Jesus  offers  to  make  you  holy. 
His  "  blood  cleanseth  from  all  sin."  The  redeemed  in 
heaven  were  made  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  Saul 
of  Tarsus  washed  in  that  fountain.  The  vilest  sinners  that 
ever  lived  have  come  to  Christ,  and  drinking  of  the  water 
he  offers,  have  been  sanctified  and  saved. 

Thus  you  will  be  pardoned,  justified,  sanctified ;  and  to 
these  mercies  will  be  added  eternal  life.  "  Sin,  when  it  is 
finished,  bringeth  forth  death."  You  must  be  delivered 
from  the  power  of  sin,  or  lie  down  in  eternal  burnings. 
This  is  the  second  death.  In  its  eternity  of  woe  it  includes 
the  wrath  of  an  angry  God,  the  torture  of  a  guilty  con- 
science, the  gnawings  of  the  worm  that  never  dies,  and  the 
torments  of  the  fire  that  is  never  quenched.  But  "  God  so 
loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that 
whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life."  In  Christ  is  deliverance  from  death.  In 
him  is  eternal  life.  Come  to  him,  and  you  may  be  clothed 
•with  unfading  youth,  raised  to  the  enjoyment  of  God,  and 
crowned  with  glory,  and  honor,  and  immortalit3^ 

These,  blessings  flow  to  those,  and  those  only,  who  come 
to  Christ ;  and  when  he  stands  and  cries,  "  If  any  man 
thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink,"  he  invites  you  to 
partake  of  these  infinitely  precious  gifts. 

There  is  7io  limit  to  this  invitation,  "  If  a)ii/  man  thirst, 
let  him  come."  The  fulness  of  the  fountain  justifies  the 
unbounded  offer.  Millions  have  drank  till  their  souls  were 
satisfied.  But  the  fountain  is  yet  full.  Jews  and  Gentiles, 
bond  and  free,  are  alike  welcome.  Come  one,  come  all,  and 
drink  of  the  water  of  life  freely. 

Reader,  perhaps  you  are  young,  and  gay,  and  thought- 


4  IF  ANY  MAN  THIRST,  ETC. 

less.  You  are  in  search  of  pleasure.  You  drink  of  the 
waters  of  this  world's  pleasures,  and  are  not  satisfied.  Amid 
the  gayest  scenes  of  life  your  soul  is  yet  unblest.  Come  to 
Jesus.  In  him  there  is  bliss  the  world  knoweth  not  of.  In 
his  presence  there  is  fulness  of  joy  ;  at  his  right  hand  there 
are  pleasures  for  evermore. 

Perhaps  3^ou  are  sick,  or  sinking  in  years,  and  the 
world  is  fading  and  failing.  In  the  Saviour's  blood  is  the 
fountain  of  health  and  life.  Here,  where  sickness,  and 
infirmities,  and  pains,  and  trials  beset  your  path,  you  would 
not  wish  to  live  always.  Eternal  life  in  such  a  world  as 
this  would  scarcel}^  be  a  blessing.  But  the  life  which  this 
fountain  gives,  is  life  in  a  better  and  brighter  world.  Drink 
of  this,  and  the  disease  of  your  soul,  the  malady  of  sin,  will 
be  healed,  and  you  shall  enter  on  the  enjoyment  of  heaven. 
There  ''the  inhabitant  shall  not  say,  I  am  sick."  ''They 
shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more  ;  neither  shall 
the  sun  light  on  them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  which 
is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  tliem,  and  shall  lead 
them  unto  living  fountains  of  waters  ;  and  God  shall  wipe 
away  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 

You  may  be  a  vile,  abandoned  profligate  ;  but  the  chief 
of  sinners  Jesus  came  to  save.  The  more  unworthy  you 
feel  yourself  to  be,  the  more  willing  he  is  to  have  mercy. 

But  mark  one  thinj^  more.  Althouo-h  this  offer  is  made 
so  freely,  and  urged  with  so  much  love,  it  is  addressed  to 
those,  and  those  only,  who  thirst.  "  If  any  man  thirst,  let 
him  come."  But  let  not  this  deter  you.  Have  you  no  de- 
sire for  the  water  of  life ;  no  desire  to  be  pardoned,  and 
saved  from  hell,  and  raised  to  heaven  ?  You  have  broken 
God's  holy  law,  and  are  now  sinking  beneath  its  blighting 
curse.  Just  ready  to  perish,  you  behold  the  water  of  life 
presented  ;  and  have  you  no  desire  to  drink  ?  The  Saviour 
offers  it  without  money  or  price  ;  and  do  you  not  desire  to 
taste  and  live  ? 

■  Yes,  0  sinner,  I  am  assured  you  desire,  you  thirst. 
Accept  the  invitation  without  one  moment's  delay.  To- 
morrow it  may  not  be  extended.     You  may  not  thirst,  if  it  is. 


PUBLISHED   BY    THE   AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


No.  404. 

I  HAVE  NOT  TIME. 


There  are  many,  wlio,  when  pressed  by  Christian  en- 
treaty to  become  reconciled  to  God  and  secure  the  salvation 
of  the  soul,  are  ready  to  urge  the  plea,  that  they  have  no 
time  to  attend  to  it.  I  speak  of  those  who  acknowledge  the 
importance  of  religion,  and  who  purpose,  before  the  close  of 
life,  to  give  it  their  serious  attention,  and  make  their  peace 
with  God. 

This  plea,  though  often  urged  merely  to  silence  the  voice 
of  Christian  love,  or  to  stifle  the  admonitions  of  conscience,  is 
no  doubt  often  made  under  the  impression  that  the  cares  of  life, 
a  constant  pressure  of  business,  and  the  support  of  a  depend- 
ent family,  are  inconsistent  with  that  attention  to  religion 
which  the  salvation  of  the  immortal  spirit  demands.  I  have 
a  man  now  in  my  mind — amiable,  upright  in  his  dealings, 
a  constant  attendant  in  the  sanctuary,  and  acknowledging 
the  importance  of  vital  piety.  He  had  always  been  an  in- 
dustrious man,  and  having  been  unfortunate  in  business, 
with  an  expensive  and  dependent  family,  he  seemed  honest- 
ly to  believe  what  he  replied  to  the  earnest  and  affectionate 
entreaty  of  a  Christian  friend,  pleading  Avith  him  to  seek 
his  0A\Ti  salvation  :  I  have  not  time  to  attend  to  it  now. 
Poor  man  I  he  has  since  gone  into  eternity,  and  it  is  to  be 
feared  that  an  appropriate  inscription  on  his  tombstone  would 
be,  "He  found  no  time  to  be  a  Christian." 

Dear  reader,  are  you  one  of  those  who  have  been  wont 
to  insult  God  and  peril  your  own  soul  by  this  plea  ?  If  so, 
be  assured,  that  of  all  the  excuses  by  which  the  claims  of 
God  and  the  convictions  of  conscience  are  outraged,  no  one 
is  less  entitled  to  regard  than  this.  It  is  without  foundation 
in  truth  :  it  is  built  upon  the  sand.  A  want  of  time  is  not 
the  true  reason  Avhy  you  are  at  this  day  the  enemy  of  God, 
and  exposed  every  hour  to  drop  into  eternal  perdition.  Stop 
VOL.  X.  41* 


I  HAVE  NOT  TIME. 


a  moment  and  consider  a  few  thoughts  on  this  subject,  infi- 
nitely important  to  the  interests  of  your  undying  soul. 

For  ivhat  purpose  has  God  given  you  time  ?  Is  it  that 
you  may  spend  it  all  in  hoarding  those  riches  which 

"  Will  leave  thee  twice  a  beggar  at  thy  death  ?" 

Is  it  that  you  may  spend  it  in  one  unending  round  of  toil  to 
secure  "  the  meat  that  perisheth  ?"  Has  the  infinitely  blessed 
God  thrown  thee  into  a  world  where  all  thy  time  is  needed 
to  secure  the  interests  of  a  frail  and  perishing  body,  while 
the  interests  of  the  immortal  spirit  are  sacrificed  ?  No,  it  is 
not  so.  God  has  given  you  time  to  glorify  him  in  preparing 
for  a  blessed  immortality.  Rather,  he  has  given  you  your 
being  that  it  may  all  be  devoted  to  him.  "  Whether  ye  eat 
or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  cdl  to  the  glory  of  God." 
"  Holiness  to  the  Lord  "  must  be  written  on  all  in  which  you 
are  engaged.  He  has  enjoined  upon  you  the  twofold  duty, 
"  not  slothful  in  business,"  and  yet  "  fervent  in  spirit,  serving 
the  Lord  ;"  and  so  doing,  he  has  not  only  promised  eternal 
salvation,  but  that,  through  the  overflowing  of  his  mercy, 
your  temporal  wants  shall  also  be  supplied.  He  has  kindly 
said,  "  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteous- 
ness, and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you ;"  "for 
your  heavenly  Father  knoweth  that  ye  have  need  of  all 
these  things."  It  was  the  remark  of  a  wise  man,  made  long 
since,  and  verified  substantially  in  every  age,  "  I  have  been 
young,  and  now  am  old ;  yet  have  I  not  seen  the  righteous 
forsaken,  nor  his  seed  begging  bread."     But  again, 

Hoiv  much  time  tvill  it  take  to  become  a  Christian  ? 
How  much  time  to  become  reconciled  to  God,  when  you  are 
ready  to  renounce  your  own  righteousness,  and  your  unwor- 
thy, selfish  purposes,  and  trust  alone  in  the  blood  and  merits 
of  a  crucified  Redeemer  ?  God  is  waiting  to  be  gracious ; 
and  as  soon  as  you  yield  yourself  to  him,  pursue  his  glory  as 
your  aim,  and  obey  his  commands  with  all  your  heart,  he  is 
ready  to  forgive  and  to  save.  Then  you  may  pursue  your 
calling — if  it  is  an  honest  one — with  renewed  diligence ; 


1  HAVE  NOT  TIME.  3 

consecrating  your  business,  with  yourself,  to  God.  How 
long"  did  it  take  the  ' '  dying  thief ' '  on  the  cross  to  repent  and 
secure,  through  grace,  the  assurance  of  a  seat  in  paradise  ? 
How  long  was  it  after  Zaccheus  first  saw  Jesus,  that  salva- 
tion came  to  his  house  ?  How  long  was  it  after  the  wicked 
and  suicidal  jailer  at  Philippi  began  to  ask  "  what  must  I 
do  to  be  saved,"  before  he  was  an  accepted  believer  ?  How 
much  time  is  needed  for  a  rebellious  child,  who  really  wishes 
to  be  reconciled  to  his  parent,  to  become  penitent,  and  obe- 
dient ?  But  if  a  long  time  is  necessary  for  you  to  turn  to 
God,  who  makes  that  necessity  ?  Ah,  sinner, 

"  'Tis  thine  own  heart  makes  grace  delay, 
And  hides  a  pard'ning  glorious  day ; 
Thou  hast  not  wish'd  God's  will  to  meet, 
Nor  lain  submissive  at  his  feet." 

God  has  commanded  you  to  dedicate  one  seventh  'part 
of  your  time  to  religious  duties — and  you  have  not  time  to 
become  a  Christian  I  You  have  lived,  it  may  be,  twenty-one 
years — then  three  years  of  that  time  have  been  Sabbaths. 
One  whole  year  in  every  seven.  What  has  become  of  those 
Sabbaths  ?  Are  you  still  the  enemy  of  God,  and  have  had 
no  time  to  become  reconciled  to  him  ?  Where  are  those  years 
of  Sabbaths  ?  What  report  have  they  borne  to  heaven  ?  Hast 
thou  made  those  precious  seasons  by  misimprovement  only 
the  means  of  thy  greater  guilt  and  deeper  doom  ?  And  wilt 
thou  still  say,  "  I  have  no  time  ?"  Oh  no  ;  thy  plea  is  vain  ; 
thy  excuse  will  no  longer  serve  thee  for  a  hiding-place  from 
the  arrows  of  truth.  Dear  reader,  thou  hast  time,  time 
enough,  precious  time.  But  fleeting  time  is  speeding  its 
onward  course  : 

"  While  we  procrastinate,  Time  urges  on 
His  rapid  flight,  and  death  draws  near ;" 

and  if  Christ  is  still  despised  by  thee,  and  thy  soul  neglected, 
soon  time  with  thee  shall  be  no  more.     But, 

Thoic  must  find  time  to  die.  Poor,  busy,  bustling  man, 
full  of  worldly  cares,  thou  hast  no  time  now  for  reflection,  to 


4  I  HAVE  NOT  TIME. 

think  upon  thy  God,  to  seek  his  pardoning  mercy,  to  secure 
a  Saviour's  love  and  the  salvation  of  thy  soul.  Busy  world- 
ling, hurried  on  from  morning  to  night,  and  from  day  to  day, 
pursuing  the  phantoms  of  life  that  continually  elude  thy 
grasp  and  mock  thy  fond  expectations,  tlioit  must  fmd  time 
to  die.  He  whom  I  mentioned,  who  "  had  no  time,"  found 
time  to  die.  His  business  pressed  him  hard,  but  death  paid 
no  regard  to  those  claims.  I  heard  that  he  was  ill,  and 
called  to  see  him.  I  asked  him  of  his  eternal  interests,  his 
hopes  beyond  the  grave.  "Oh,"  said  he,  "I  have  given 
too  little  attention  to  that  subject."  A  few  moments  of  re- 
ligious conversation  was  all  the  time  he  had.  Soon  after  I 
left  him,  his  reason  was  affected  by  his  disease,  and  so  con- 
tinued until  death.  He  found  time  to  die,  but  a  dying  bed 
afforded  him  no  time  to  become  a  Christian. 

Dear  reader,  thou  too  must  find  time  to  die.  Death  will 
soon  call  thee  from  thy  eager  pursuit  of  worldly  good.  Thou 
must  exchange  the  busy  scenes  that  occupy  thy  time  and 
thoughts,  for  the  stillness  and  the  solemnity  of  a  dying  bed. 
The  shroud  and  the  coffin  shall  enclose  thee,  and  the  dark 
grave  contain  thy  dust  until  the  Archangel's  trump  shall 
call  thee  forth  to  give  thy  last  account. 

"  Vain  man,  thy  fond  pursuits  forbear ; 
Repent,  thy  end  is  nigh : 
Death,  at  the  farthest,  can't  be  far ; 
O  think  before  thou  die." 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


I¥o.  4L05. 


i  i 


CUT   IT   DOWN!" 


"Let  it  alone  this  year  also!" — Thus  spoke  the 
dresser  of  the  vineyard  in  behalf  of  the  barren  fig-tree. 
Year  after  year  the  owner  had  sought  fruit  thereon,  and 
found  none.  Despairing,  at  length,  of  rendering  it  fruitful, 
he  orders  it  to  be  cut  down:  "  Cut  it  down;  ivhy  cum- 
hereth  it  the  ground?''  But  the  vine-dresser  "answering, 
said  unto  him,  '  Lord,  let  it  alone  this  year  also — and  if  it 
bear  fruit,  well  ;  and  if  not,  then  after  that  thou  shalt  cut 
it  down.'  "     Luke  13  :  6-9. 

For  you  and  me,  dear  friend,  the  Saviour  spoke  the 
parable.  We  are  the  trees  which  his  own  hand  has  planted. 
From  us  he  desires  and  seeks  fruit.  When,  at  the  close  of 
the  last  year,  he  came  to  you  with  this  intent,  how  justly, 
"  after  so  long  a  time,"  might  he  have  said,  "Cut  it  down ; 
why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ?"  But  no,  he  would  not ; 
the  greatness  of  his  compassion  pleaded  in  your  behalf,  and 
cried,  "Let  it  alone  this  year  also." 

It  was  a  blessed  reprieve.  This  it  was  that  has  kept 
you,  day  by  day,  in  your  lying  down,  and  rising  up — in 
your  going  out,  and  coming  in.  Like  others,  you  may 
have  sickened,  but  not  unto  death.  Others  Avasted,  fell, 
expired.  But  death  had  no  power  over  you.  Not  until 
the  last  hour  of  the  period  which  God  appointed  had  passed 
away,  could  you  "be  hurt  of"  either  the  first  or  "the 
second  death."  Disease  and  death  are  obedient  to  Him 
who  said,  "  Let  it  alone  this  year  also." 

"And  if  it  bear  fruit,  well." — The  tree  had  been 
planted,  not  for  its  own  sake,  bu£  for  the  expected  fruit. 
For  this  the  soil  had  been  chosen,  dug,  enriched,  enclosed  ; 
the  tender  shoot  had  been  planted,  watered,  nourished,  and 
pruned.  For  this,  too,  the  tree  is  spared  another  year.  He 
does  not  yet  give  it  up.  Another  year  it  may  yield  abun- 
dantly. 

On  the  same  condition,  dear  friend,  your  reprieve  was 
based.  You  w^ere  spared,  that  opportunity  might  be  given 
you  to  repent,  and  "  bring  forth  fruits  meet  for  repentance." 


2  "CUT  IT  DOWN!" 

Year  after  year  have  you  received  tlie  kind  attention  of  Him 
who  made  you.  So  abundant,  so  incessant  have  the  proofs 
of  his  care  been,  that  he  can  now  most  justly  ask,  in  re- 
spect to  you,  "  What  could  have  been  done  more  to  my 
vineyard,  that  I  have  not  done  in  it?"  Enough,  and  more 
than  enough  he  has  done,  to  have  warranted  long  since  the 
expectation  of  your  conversion  and  fruitfulness.  With  the 
knowledge  of  your  guilt  and  danger,  he  has  shown  you  the 
way  of  pardon  and  salvation  through  faith  in  his  Son ;  has 
given  you  his  word,  which  is  "■  able  to  make  you  wise  unto 
salvation,  through  faith  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus ;"  has 
extended  to  you  the  privileges  of  the  sanctuary,  and  the 
blessing  of  an  able,  pious,  zealous,  and  faithful  ministry ; 
has  surrounded  you  with  numerous  tender-hearted,  benev- 
olent, and  praying  frieiids  ;  has  put  it  into  the  hearts  of  his 
people,  to  afford  you  special  means  of  grace ;  has  poured 
out  his  Holy  Spirit  on  them  and  you,  and  thus  his  own 
"  still  small  voice"  has  urged  you  to  press  into  the  king- 
dom of  Christ.  In  thousands  of  cases,  less  means  have 
proved  successful.  Why,  then,  should  not  the  Saviour 
have  sought  fruit  from  you  a  year  ago  ? 

But  another  year  has  been  added  to  your  term  of  pro- 
bation ;  another  opportunity  given  you,  with  perhaps  in- 
creased advantages,  to  repent.  And  how  have  you  im- 
proved it  ?  It  may  be,  that,  in  some  serious  moment,  you 
promised  God,  that  if  he  would  spare  you — "  let  you  alone 
this  year  also" — you  would  become  his  obedient  servant. 
Have  you  remembered  your  promise  ?  Have  you  fulfilled 
it?  Has  the  fruit  appeared?  ^' If  it  hear  fruit,  well." 
Then,  "  blessed  art  thou,  for  thou  hast  found  favor  with  God." 

"And  if  not" — if  you  have  not  improved  the  past 
year,  have  not  repented,  and  turned  to  God — But  can  it 
be  ?  can  you  again  have  slighted  the  calls  of  divine  mercy, 
trifled  with  the  offers  of  grace,  and  turned  away  from  all 
the  admonitions  and  entreaties  of  your  God  ?  Has  all  his 
love,  so  rich,  so  free,  so  long-continued,  failed  to  melt  your 
heart  ?  That  promise — have  you  forgotten  it  ?  A  twelve- 
month since,  it  ma}^  be,  the  Master  came  and  sought  the 
promised  fruit.  But  finding  none,  he  said,  "  I  will  '  let  it 
alone  this  year  also.'  "  Ought  you  not  to  have  repented 
within  the  year  ?  But  it  has  gone,  and  you  are  yet  in  your 
sins,  perhaps  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  without  even  a 


"  CUT  IT  DOWN  !"  3 

hope  of  heaven.  There  is  less  prospect  than  ever  of  your 
being-  reclaimed.  Thousands,  during  that  period — some  of 
them,  perhaps,  your  own  friends  and  kindred — have,  with 
no  better  advantages  than  you  have  enjoyed,  sought  and 
found  the  Lord.  Why  has  it  not  been  so  with  you  ?'' 
"  Wherefore,"  saith  the  Lord,  "  Avhen  I  looked  that  it  should 
oring  forth  grapes,  brought  it  forth  wild  grapes?"  Oh, 
that  you  had  been  wise,  had  understood  this,  had  consid- 
ered your  latter  end.  Then  it  would  now  have  been  well 
with  you;  *'if  it  bear  fruit,  well.     And  if  not,  then — 

**  After  that  thou  shalt  cut  it  down." — If,  at  the 
year's  end,  no  fruit  should  be  found  upon  the  tree,  the 
keeper  of  the  vineyard  would  give  it  up.  And  why  not  ? 
Why  should  it  any  longer  cumber  the  ground  ?  The  trial 
will  then  have  been  made — an  ample  trial.  Nothing  more 
can  be  done  for  it. 

The  year  expires,  and  still  there  is  no  fruit.  For  the 
fourth  time  the  owner  comes  seeking  fruit,  and  finds  none. 
W^ho  now  will  plead,  ''Let  it  alone  this  year  also?"  Not 
the  vine-dresser — he  gives  it  up  :  he  pleads  no  longer.  And 
if  not  he,  who  then  ?  None — none.  It  must  perish,  "  Cut 
it  down  ;  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ?" 

Has  not  all  this,  dear  friend,  a  fearful  application  to 
yourself?  Your  reprieve  may  have  now  expired.  Again 
the  Master  comes  seeking  fruit,  and  finds  none.  You  are 
yet  in  your  sins.  Labor  has  been  bestowed  on  you  without 
avail.  Why  should  the  reprieve  be  renewed  ?  Why  should 
he  spare  you  any  longer  ?  already  he  has  done  for  you 
vastly  more  than  you  deserve — more  than  for  multitudes 
who  have  perished  in  their  sins.  What,  then,  can  yo^i  ex- 
pect more  ?  Who  can  say  that  more  will  be  of  any  avail ; 
that  it  w^ould  effect  any  thing  else  than  an  aggravation  of 
your  guilt,  an  increase  of  your  condemnation  ?  Why  should 
he  not  also  say  of  you,  "  Cut  it  down ;  why  cumbereth  it 
the  ground?" 

If  that  reprieve  be  not  renewed,  then  the  time  draws 
nigh  that  you  must  die.  Short  as  your  life  has  been,  you 
must  die.  Little  as  you  have  accomplished  of  your  projects 
and  purposes,  you  must  die.  Much  as  you  may  wish  to 
live,  for  the  sake  of  yourself  or  others,  yet  there  is  much 
cause  for  you  to  believe,  that  "  thus  saith  the  Lord,  this 
YEAR  THOU  SHALT  DIE !"    Alas,  how  much  have  you  been 


4  "CUT  IT  DOWN." 

deceived  in  your  expectations  of  earthly  pleasure.  How 
much  reason  have  you  to  repent  of  your  idleness,  folly, 
waste,  thoughtlessness,  disregard  of  duty — nay,  of  your 
whole  life.  And  hoAv  much  have  you  to  do.  If  this  must 
be  your  last  year,  month,  or  day,  how  precious  to  you  is 
every  moment.  You  cannot  afford  to  lose  a  moment  in 
idleness,  or  in  mere  worldly  pursuits.  Others  may  deem 
it  needful  to  lay  up  for  future  years.  Not  so  with  you. 
If  God  has  said  of  you,  ''this  year  thou  shalt  die,"  then 
the  next  year  you  will  want  neither  house  nor  shop,  equip- 
age nor  furniture,  dress  nor  food.  The  grave  will  be  your 
house,  the  dust  your  bed,  the  coffin  your  furniture,  the 
shroud  your  dress,  the  worms  your  covering.  Long  enough 
have  you  labored  for  this  world.  Be  persuaded  now  to 
labor  for  another.  Discard  all  trifles.  Be  in  earnest.  Seek 
now  the  Lord.  Resolve  to  make  a  desperate  effort  "to 
enter  in  at  the  strait  gate."  Set  out  for  heaven.  Begin 
this  day.  Press  on,  and  on,  let  who  will  cry,  *'  stop." 
Like  Bunyan's  pilgrim,  stop  your  ears,  and  run,  *'  crying. 
Life!   Life!   ETERNAL  LIFE  !" 

Perhaps  it  may  not  yet  be  too  late.  If  you  wait  not 
now ;  if  you  give  over  trifling ;  if  you  forsake  your  sins, 
calling  on  God  ;  if  you  turn  to  the  Lord  with  all  your  heart, 
casting  yourself  on  his  mercy  through  Jesus  Christ ;  if  you 
do  this,  it  is  not  yet  too  late.  "As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord 
God,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked ;  but 
that  the  wicked  turn  from  his  way  and  live :  turn  ye,  turn 
ye  from  your  evil  ways;  for  why  will  ye  die?"  Then 
hear  his  voice.  This  day  he  renews  the  call.  "  To-day, 
if  you  will  hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  heart."  This 
day  resolve  to  turn  to  God.  Let  this  very  day  be  the 
date  of  your  new  birth.  Let  not  this  sun  go  down,  and 
leave  you  "dead  in  trespasses  and  sins."  Let  there  be 
"joy  in  heaven"  to-day,  on  your  account,  while  the  shout 
ascends,  "This  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again;  he 
was  lost,  and  is  found." 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN   TRACT    SOCIETY. 


IVo.  406. 

PRIYATE    DEVOTION. 


The  Lord  Jesus,  m  that  greatest  sermon  that  ever  fell 
oil  mortal  ears,  enjoins,  "  Thou^  when  thuu  pray  est  ^  enter 
into  thy  closets  Not  that  he  would  confine  all  prayer  to 
the  closet ;  for  he  himself  prayed  publicly  and  socially. 
And  Paul  exhorts  to  "pray  always  with  all  prayer  ;"  that 
Is,  as  is  generally  understood,  with  all  kinds  of  prayer.  It 
is  our  duty  to  pray  statedly  in  the  sanctuary,  and  in  the 
family ;  and  occasionally  in  the  social  meeting,  by  the 
side  of  the  sick  bed,  and  in  the  house  of  bereavement 
and  sorrow.  But  in  addition  to  all  these  kinds  of  prayer, 
the  Saviour's  injunction  points  us  to  the  closet^  where 
we  shall  be  alone  with  God. 

This  vital  duty  the  Saviour  sanctions  by  his  own  ex- 
ample. How  often  do  we  trace  his  footsteps  to  some 
seclu  led  spot, — the  declivity  of  the  mountain,  the  garden, 
the  sea-side,  for  the  purpose  of  private  prayer.  Isaac 
was  wont  to  retire  "  to  meditate  in  the  field  at  the  even- 
tide." David  communed  with  his  own  heart,  in  the  night 
watches :  "  seven  times  a  day  do  I  praise  thee."  Daniel 
knelt  three  times  a  day  in  his  private  chamber.  Peter 
went  up  to  the  house-top  to  pray  about  the  sixth  hour. 
And  if  we  consult  the  history  of  men  who  have  adorned 
the  church  in  all  ages,  we  find  them  often  on  their  knees 
before  the  throne  of  God  in  their  closets. 

The  object  of  these  seasons  of  retirement  is,  prayer  to 
God,  united  with  the  reading  of  the  word,  and  self-ex- 
amination. Separated  from  the  world  and  its  cares  ;  with 
no  eye  upon  us  but  that  which  seeth  in  secret ;  with  the 
law  and  the  testimony,  the  only  rule  of  faith  and  practice, 
before  us  ;  with  our  secret  sins  and  presumptuous  faults 
set  in  order  before  our  minds,  we  are  to  unbosom  our 
souls  before  our  heavenly  Father,  with  the  utmost  free- 
dom and  fullness,  through  Christ  our  atoning  Intercessor. 
How  expressive  the  appeal  of  the  Psalmist  in  such  an 
interview!  "Search  me,  0  God,  and  know  my  heart; 
try  me,  and  know  my  thoughts  ;  and  see  if  there  be  any 
wicked  way  in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  everlasting." 

This  duty  should  be  performed  jmnciually  at  regular 
nppointed  seasons.   Few,  in  maintaining  a  close  walk  with 

VOL.  X.  42 


Z  PRIVATE    DEVOTION. 

God,  will  be  satisfied  with  less  than  two  seasons  of  re- 
tirement for  each  day  ;  and  regularity  in  this  duty  is  as 
needful  to  the  health  of  the  soul,  as  the  regular  recep- 
tion of  food  to  that  of  the  body.  The  habit  should  be 
so  established  that  the  allotted  season  cannot  pass  un- 
improved without  awakening  the  deep-toned  remon- 
strances of  conscience. 

But  this  is  a  duty  liable  to  be  neglected.  And  this  for 
the  obvious  reason  that  it  is  ^private  duty.  The  eve  of 
the  world  follows  you  not  to  your  closet.  If  you  go  not 
to  the  house  of  God,  meet  not  the  friends  of  Zion  in 
their  appointed  seasons  of  prayer,  aid  not  the  spread  of 
the  Gospel  by  your  contributions,  you,  of  course,  can 
have  no  good  reputation  for  piety  in  the  eyes  of  men. 
Br.c  you  may  neglect  your  closet  and  not  forfeit  such 
reputation,  provided  you  pay  a  decent  regard  to  the 
more  public  duties  of  religion.  But  this  is  not  all.  The 
active  bustling  habits  of  the  times  are  wofully  hostile  to 
the  noiseless,  retired,  unostentatious  duties  of  the  closet. 
Beware  that  you  become  not  so  swallowed  up  in  any  of 
the  exciting  enterprises  of  the  day  as  to  neglect  your 
own  heart  and  your  closet.  For,  bt  assured,  if  these  en- 
terprises are  ever  made  to  subserve  the  great  purposes 
which  they  are  adapted  to  promote,  it  will  be,  under  God, 
through  the  counsels  and  guidance  of  those  who  seek 
for  wisdom  and  grace  daily  in  secret  places.  If  the 
church  shall  ever  become  united,  and  happy,  and  pros- 
perous in  her  onward  march  to  the  conquest  of  the  world 
to  her  Redeemer,  it  will  be  by  the  instrumentality  of 
such  as  pray  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem  in  the  retire- 
ment of  the  closet. 

These  pages  will  fall  into  the  hands  of  those  who  are 
know^n  as  the  prof essed  followers  of  the  Saviour.  To  such 
I  would  say,  let  the  interest  you  feel  in  your  daily  secret 
devotions  stand  before  you  as  the  thermometer  of  your 
spiritual  state.  Other  motives  than  the  love  of  Christ 
may  carry  you  abroad  and  open  your  la^nith  in  public, 
and  light  up  your  zeal  for  the  extension  of  truth  and 
righteousness;  but  I  can  assure  you  that  the  closet  will 
be  the  last  place  where  you  will  go  daily  and  punctually 
from  any  other  consideration  than  a  pure  desire  to  meet 
God  and  enjoy  the  smiles  of  his  reconciled  countenance. 


PRIVATE    DEVOriON.  '6 

O  ye,  who  have  opened  your  mouth  unto  the  Lord, 
draw  around  the  sanctuary  of  your  private  devotions 
a  barrier  so  strong  that  no  vain  amusement,  no  secu- 
lar cares,  no  social  avocation,  shall  intrude  upon  them. 
How  can  you  keep  a  conscience  void  of  oflence  toward 
God  and  man  as  you  mingle  with  the  world — how  can 
you  control  your  temper,  and  hold  in  subjection  every 
native  propensity,  and  have  your  conversation  always 
"  seasoned  with  salt " — unless  you  go  forth  under  the 
fear  of  that  ail-seeing  eye  before  which  you  have  just 
knelt  in  secret  1 

I  appeal  to  men  of  business,  who  are  ready  to  say, 
"  We  have  no  time  to  spare  for  this  object."  But  is  this 
a  valid  excuse  1  Do  you  not  live  each  day  and  hour 
through  the  forbearance  of  God  1  And  is  it  reasonable 
that  you  should  give  all  your  hours  to  business  and 
none  to  him,  or  to  the  eternal  interests  of  the  soul  1  No 
time  to  pray  \  Think  of  the  king  of  Israel,  with  his 
armies  abroad,  and  his  extended  empire  at  home  to  oc- 
cupy his  mind  and  exhaust  his  energies,  yet  he  could 
find  time  to  call  upon  God,  "  evening,  morning,  and  at 
noon."  Think  of  Daniel,  with  the  afiairs  of  an  hundred 
and  twenty  provinces  resting  on  his  mind,  yet  finding 
time  to  go  into  his  chamber  three  times  a  day,  that  he 
might  pray  and  give  thanks  to  God.  Think  of  Wilber- 
force,  whose  life  was  spent  amidst  the  conflicting  and 
dissipating  scenes  of  parliament,  yet  never  allowing 
the  hurry  of  a  nation's  business  to  prevent  his  stated 
seasons  of  devotion.  No  time  to  pray  1  For  what  was 
time  given  you,  if  not  that  you  should  "  seek  first  the 
kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness  V  If  your  heart 
were  right  with  God  you  would  find  time  to  pray,  though 
it  might  oblige  you  to  abridge  your  meals,  or  invade 
the  allotted  hours  of  sleep. 

I  address  some  who  are  in  advanced  years.  Does  life 
begin  to  wear  heavily  upon  you  1  Is  the  grasshopper  a 
burden'?  So  that  you  begin  to  find  yourselves  yielding 
to  discontent,  irritability,  distrust — evils  which  are  so 
apt  to  creep  in  and  imbitter  declining  years  ^  The  best 
antidote  I  know,  is  secret  prayer.  Nothing  is  so  soften- 
ing to  the  asperities  of  temper — nothing  so  well  calcu- 
lated to  beget  a  submissive,    child-like   simplicity  and 


4  PRIVATE    DEVOTION. 

amiableness  of  disposition.  But  more :  You  are  soon 
to  pass  through  the  cold  floods  of  Jordan.  Do  you  de- 
sire the  Divine  "  rod  and  staff  to  comfort  you,"  as  you 
go  trembling  down  its  brink  1  Then  be  much  in  prayer 
alone.  You  may  never  again  be  favored  with  the  privi- 
lege of  going  to  the  sanctuary  or  the  communion-table, 
but  you  have  the  throne  of  grace  and  the  Bible  to  which 
you  can  resort. 

I  address  those  who  are  young.  Are  you  aware  that 
you  live  in  a  world  of  temptation — that  all  along  your 
path  some  bait  is  held  out  to  decoy  you  and  render  you 
the  victim  of  vice  and  crime  \  And  do  you  know  that 
you  have  little  strength  of  your  own  to  resist  these  en- 
ticements 1  I  come  to  you  as  a  friend  and  offer  you  a 
sure  antidote.  Daily  secret  prayer  will  cover  you  with 
a  triple  shield,  through  which  no  dart  of  the  adver- 
sary will  penetrate.  I  mean  not  simply  '^  saying  your 
prayers,"  but  sincerely  and  devoutly  praying  on  your 
knees  every  day  you  live.  But  though  young,  you  may 
die.  Can  you  hope  it  will  be  well  with  you  in  death  and 
eternity,  wdien  you  never  call  upon  God  in  health  ]  The 
voice  of  God  comes  to  you  from  many  a  youthful  grave, 
"  Wilt  thou  not  from  this  time  cry  unto  me,  My  Father, 
thou  art  the  guide  of  my  youth  V 

I  address  those  who  are  living  without  God  and  with- 
out  hope.  Are  you  not,  amidst  all  the  business,  and  toils, 
and  gratifications  of  an  empty  world,  like  the  dove  sent 
out  from  the  ark,  wandering  to  and  fro  and  finding  no 
resting-place  for  the  sole  of  your  feet  1  "  Wherefore  do 
ye  spend  money  for  that  which  is  not  bread,  and  your 
labor  for  that  which  satisfieth  not  V  Let  me  say  to  you, 
that  after  so  long  a  time,  the  King  of  heaven  invites 
you  to  an  interview  with  himself.  This  very  hour  he 
waits  around  your  secret  chamber  to  listen  to  your  sigh 
of  penitence.  Have  you  not  one  broken-hearted  petition 
to  breathe  into  that  condescending  ear]  Can  you,  dare 
you,  venture  on  the  slumbers  of  another  night  without 
prayer  1  Shall  days,  weeks,  and  years  pass,  and  find  you 
still  living  without  God  %  Praj'^erless  soul,  what  wilt 
thou  do  in  the  judgment  of  the  great  day  1 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


No.  4or. 

SELF-DEDICATION  TO  GOD. 

FROM  DODDRIDGE'S  RISE  AND  PROGRESS. 


My  dear  Friend — You  have  felt  your  lost  condition  as 
a  sinner  against  God.  You  have  felt  your  need  of  the  aton- 
ing blood  of  Christ.  You  know  that  blood  can  be  available 
for  you,  only  by  your  believing  in  him — trusting  in  him — 
dedicating  yourself  to  him,  through  the  promised  aids  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  To  this  act  of  dedication  you  are  now 
urged  by  conscience,  by  the  word  of  God,  and  by  the  striv- 
ings of  the  Spirit.  And  it  may  be  of  great  use  to  you,  not 
only  to  form  in  your  heart  the  purpose  of  surrendering  your- 
self to  God,  but  expressly  to  declare  it  in  the  divine  pres- 
ence. Such  solemnity  in  the  manner  of  doing  it,  is  certainly 
very  reasonable  in  the  nature  of  things ;  and  surely  it  is 
highly  expedient  for  binding  to  the  Lord  such  a  treacherous 
heart  as  we  know  our  own  to  be. 

Do  it  therefore  ;  but  do  it  deliberately.  Consider  what 
it  is  that  you  are  to  do,  and  consider  how  reasonable  it  is 
that  it  should  be  done  cordially  and  cheerfully  ;  "  not  by 
constraint,  but  willingly,"  for  in  this  sense,  and  in  every 
other,  "  God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver."  Nothing  can  be 
more  evident  than  that  we,  the  product  of  his  power,  and 
the  price  of  his  Son's  blood,  should  be  his,  and  his  for  ever. 
If  you  see  the  matter  in  its  just  view,  it  will  be  the  grief  of 
your  soul  that  you  have  ever  alienated  yourself  from  the 
blessed  God  and  his  service  :  so  far  will  you  be  from  wish- 
ing to  continue  in  that  state  of  alienation  another  year,  or 
another  day,  you  will  rejoice  to  bring  back  to  him  his  re- 
volted creature  ;  and  as  you  have  in  times  past  '*'  yielded 
your  members  as  instruments  of  unrighteousness  unto  sin," 
you  will  delight  to  "  yield  yourself  unto  God  as  alive  from 
the  dead." 

The  surrender  will  also  be  as  entire  as  it  is  cheerful  and 
immediate.  All  you  are,  and  all  you  have,  and  all  you  can 
do — your  time,  your  possessions,  your  influence  over  oth 

VOL.  X.  42* 


2  SELF-DEDICATION  TO  GOD. 

ers — will  be  devoted  to  him,  that  for  the  future  it  may  be 
employed  entirely  for  him,  and  to  his  glory.  You  will  de- 
sire to  keep  back  nothing  from  him  ;  but  will  seriously  judge 
that  you  are  then  in  the  truest  and  noblest  sense  your  own, 
when  you  are  most  entirely  his.  You  are  also,  on  this  great 
occasion,  to  resign  all  that  you  have  to  the  disposal  of  his 
wise  and  gracious  providence  ;  not  only  owning  his  power, 
but  consenting  to  his  undoubted  right  to  do  what  he  pleases 
with  you,  and  all  that  he  has  given  you. 

Once  more,  let  me  remind  you  that  this  surrender  must 
be  perpetual.  You  must  give  yourself  up  to  God  in  such  a 
manner  as  never  more  to  pretend  to  be  your  own ;  for  the 
rights  of  God  are,  like  his  nature,  eternal  and  immutable ; 
and  with  regard  to  his  rational  creatures,  are  the  same  yes- 
terday, to-day,  and  for  ever. 

I  would  farther  advise  and  urge,  that  this  dedication  may 
be  made  with  all  possible  solemnity.  Do  it  in  express  words. 
And  perhaps  it  may  be  in  many  cases  most  expedient,  as 
many  pious  divines  have  recommended,  to  do  it  in  writing. 
Set  your  hand  and  seal  to  it,  "  that  on  such  a  day  of  such 
a  month  and  year,  and  at  such  a  place,  on  full  consideration 
and  serious  reflection,  you  came  to  this  happy  resolution, 
that,  whatsoever  others  might  do,  you  would  serve  the 
Lord." 

Such  an  instrument  you  may,  if  you  please,  draw  up  for 
yourself;  or,  if  you  rather  choose  to  have  it  drawn  up  to 
your  hand,  you  may  find  something  of  this  nature  below,  in 
which  you  may  easily  make  such  alterations  as  your  circum- 
stances may  seem  to  require.  But  whatever  form  you  use, 
weigh  it  well,  meditate  attentively  upon  it,  that  you  may 
"not  be  rash  with  your  mouth  to  utter  any  thing  before 
God."  And  when  you  determine  to  execute  this  instru- 
ment, let  the  transaction  be  attended  with  some  more  than 
'  ordinary  religious  retirement.  Make  it,  if  you  conveniently 
can,  a  day  of  secret  fasting  and  prayer ;  and  when  your 
heart  is  prepared  with  a  becoming  awe  of  the  divine  Maj- 
esty, Avith  an  humble  confidence  in  his  goodness,  and  an 
earnest  desire  of  his  favor,  then  present  yourself  on  your 
knees  before  God,  and  read  it  over  deliberately  and  solemn- 
ly ;  and  when  you  have  signed  it,  lay  it  by  in  some  secure 
place,  where  you  may  leview  it  whenever  you  please ;  and 
make  it  a  rule  with  yourself  to  review  it,  if  possible,  at  cer- 


SELF  DEDICATION  TO  GOD.  3 

tain  seasons  of  the  year,  that  you  may  keep  up  the  remem- 
brance of  it.  And  God  grant  that  you  may  be  enabled  to 
keep  it,  and  in  the  whole  of  your  life  walk  according  to  it. 
May  it  be  an  anchor  to  your  soul  in  every  temptation,  a  cor- 
dial in  every  affliction,  and  may  the  recollection  of  it  give 
strength  to  your  departing  spirit,  in  a  consciousness  that  it 
is  ascending  to  your  covenant  God  and  Father,  and  to  that 
gracious  Redeemer  whose  power  and  faithfulness  will  se- 
curely "  keep  what  you  commit  to  him  unto  that  day." 

AN  EXAMPLE  OF  SELF-DEDICATION. 

"  Eternal  and  ever-blessed  God,  I  desire  to  present  my- 
self before  thee,  with  the  deepest  humiliation  and  abasement 
of  soul,  sensible  how  unworthy  such  a  sinful  worm  is  to  ap- 
pear before  the  holy  Majesty  of  heaven,  the  King  of  kings 
and  Lord  of  lords,  and  especially  on  such  an  occasion  as 
this,  ever  to  dedicate  myself,  without  reserve,  to  thee.  But 
the  scheme  and  plan  is  thine  own.  Thine  infinite  condescen- 
sion hath  offered  it  by  thy  Son,  and  thy  grace  hath  inclined 
my  heart  to  accept  of  it, 

"  I  come,  therefore,  acknowledging  myself  to  have  been 
a  great  offender ;  smiting  upon  my  breast,  and  saying  with 
the  humble  publican,  '  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner.'  I 
come,  invited  by  the  name  of  thy  Son,  and  Avholly  trusting 
in  his  perfect  righteousness,  entreating  that  for  his  sake  thou 
wilt  be  merciful  to  my  unrighteousness,  and  wilt  no  more 
remember  my  sins.  Receive,  I  beseech  thee,  thy  revolted 
creature,  who  is  now  convinced  of  thy  right  to  him,  and 
desires  nothing  so  much  as  that  he  may  be  thine. 

"  This  day  do  I,  with  the  utmost  solemnity,  surrender 
myself  to  thee.  I  renounce  all  former  lords  that  have  had 
dominion  over  me ;  and  I  consecrate  to  thee  all  that  I  am, 
and  all  that  I  have  :  the  faculties  of  my  mind,  the  members 
of  my  body,  my  worldly  possessions,  my  time,  and  my  influ- 
ence over  others ;  to  be  all  used  entirely  for  thy  glory,  and 
steadfastly  employed  in  obedience  to  thy  commands,  as  long 
as  thou  continuest  me  in  life ;  with  an  ardent  desire  and 
humble  resolution  to  continue  thine  through  all  the  endless 
ages  of  eternity  ;  ever  holding  myself  in  an  attentive  pos- 
ture to  observe  the  first  intimations  of  thy  will,  and  ready 
to  spring  forward  with  zeal  and  joy  to  the  immediate  execu- 
tion of  it. 


4  SELF-DEDICATIOxV  TO  UOU. 

"  To  thy  direction  also  I  resign  myself,  and  all  I  am  and 
have,  to  be  disposed  of  by  thee  in  such  a  manner  as  thou 
shalt  in  thine  infinite  wisdom  judge  most  subservient  to  the 
purposes  of  thy  glory.  To  thee  I  leave  the  management  of 
all  events,  and  say  without  reserve,  '  Not  my  will,  but  thine 
be  done,'  rejoicing  with  a  loyal  heart  in  thine  unlimited  gov- 
ernment, as  what  ought  to  be  the  delight  of  the  whole 
rational  creation. 

**  Use  me,  0  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  as  an  instrument  of 
thy  service.  Number  me  among  thy  peculiar  people.  Let 
me  be  washed  in  the  blood  of  thy  dear  Son.  Let  me  be 
clothed  with  his  righteousness.  Let  me  be  sanctified  by  his 
Spirit.  Transform  me  more  and  more  into  his  image.  Im- 
part to  me,  through  him,  all  needful  influences  of  thy  puri- 
fying, cheering,  and  comforting  Spirit.  And  let  my  life  be 
spent  under  those  influences,  and  in  the  light  of  thy  gra- 
cious countenance,  as  my  Father  and  my  God. 

"And  when  the  solemn  hour  of  death  comes,  may  I 
remember  thy  covenant,  '  well-ordered  in  all  things  and 
sure,  as  all  my  salvation,  and  all  my  desire,'  2  Sam.  23:5, 
though  every  hope  and  enjoyment  is  perishing  ;  and  do  thou, 
O  Lord,  remember  it  too.  Look  down  with  pity,  0  my 
heavenly  Father,  on  thy  languishing,  dying  child.  Embrace 
me  in  thine  everlasting  arms.  Put  strength  and  confidence 
into  my  departing  spirit,  and  receive  it  to  the  abodes  of 
them  that  sleep  in  Jesus,  peacefully  and  joyfully  to  wait 
the  accomplishment  of  thy  great  promise  to  all  thy  people, 
even  that  of  a  glorious  resurrection,  and  of  eternal  happi- 
ness in  thine  heavenl}^  presence. 

"  And  if  any  surviving  friend  should,  when  I  am  in  the 
dust,  meet  with  this  memorial  of  my  solemn  transactions 
with  thee,  may  he  make  the  engagement  his  own ;  and  do 
thou  graciously  admit  him  to  partake  in  all  the  blessings  of 
THY  COVENANT,  through  Jcsus  the  great  Mediator  of  it ;  to 
whom,  with  thee,  0  Father,  and  thy  Holy  Spirit,  be  ever- 
lasting praises.     Amen." 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


No.  408. 

I  MUST  PKAY  IN  SECRET. 


That  I  must  prai/,  is  a  moral  axiom — it  is  self-evident — 
it  needs  no  proof.  It  is  as  much  the  instinct  of  my  nature, 
as  it  is  the  command  of  Heaven.  Prayer  is  my  commun- 
ion with  God.  It  is  my  language  of  Avorship,  as  a  man ; 
of  dependence,  as  a  creature ;  of  submission,  as  a  subject ; 
of  confession,  as  a  sinner ;  of  thankfulness,  as  the  recipient 
of  mercies  ;  of  supplication,  as  a  needy  being.  As  a  Chris- 
tian, I  find  it  "my  vital  breath,  my  native  air."  Without 
it  I  cannot  live.  /  inust  pray ;  for  if  I  do  not,  I  shall 
spiritually  suffocate  ;  I  shall  starve  and  die. 

But  not  only  must  I  prai/ — pray  in  the  family,  in  the 
social  circle,  in  the  walks  of  business,  winging  my  thoughts 
in  aspirations  to  the  heavens,  but  /  ??iust  also  pray  in  se- 
cret. Some  place  I  must  have  that  I  can  call  "  my  clos- 
et''— some  place  where  I  can  go  away  by  myself,  and 
shut  out  the  world,  and  be  alone  with  my  God.  Some 
place,  it  must  be,  where,  like  Isaac  in  the  field,  and  Peter  on 
the  house-top,  and  Daniel  in  his  chamber,  and  the  blessed 
Saviour  on  the  mountain,  I  may  "  pray  to  my  Father  which 
is  in  secret."  I  must  have  a  time  for  this  duty,  and  a  stated 
time ;  for  if  I  have  not,  it  will  never  become  a  habit ;  and  if 
not  a  habit,  I  shall  be  apt  to  neglect  it,  and  it  will  not  become 
inwoven  with  my  spiritual  existence,  as  a  part  of  my  soul's 
life,  nor  will  it  have  that  power  of  association,  that  current 
and  glow  of  feeling,  without  which  duty  is  never  delightful. 
Often,  too,  must  I  attend  to  this  duty — often  improve  the 
delightful  privilege  of  private  converse  with  heaven.  An 
eminent  statesman,  with  all  the  cares  of  empire  upon  him, 
used  daily  to  retire  for  secret  prayer ;  and  Daniel,  when 
prime  minister  of  a  kingdom,  was  three  times  a  day  found 
in  his  closet.     They  did  not  pray  too  much  in  secret.     I  had 


j2  I  MUST  PRAY  IN  SECRET. 

better  pray  more,  rather  than  less.  Like  them,  Hke  all  em- 
inent saints,  often  must  I  be  found  in  my  closet,  with  serious 
reflection,  with  self-examination,  with  the  Bible  open  before 
me,  in  solemn,  and  fervent,  and  wrestling  communion  with 
God.     Yes,  /  must  often  pray  in  secret. 

I  must  pray  in  secret,  for  God  commands  it.  "  Enter 
into  thy  closet,  and  Avhen  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to 
thy  Father  which  is  in  secret."  This  is  God's  command, 
and  I  may  not,  I  dare  not  disobey  it.  "  He  seeth  in  secret," 
and  if  in  secret  I  do  not  pray  to  him,  he  will  be  grieved 
and  angry  with  me  ;  while,  if  I  do,  he,  as  he  has  promised, 
''will  reward  me  openly," 

I  must  pray  in  secret,  for  of  all  communion  with  heaven, 
that  which  is  secret  is  the  sweetest.  The  dearest  converse  of 
earthly  friends,  is  that  which  is  most  private,  that  which  most 
shrinks  from  the  gaze,  the  almost  profaning  gaze  of  others. 
Much  enjoyment  may  bosom  friends  find  in  the  general 
mingling  of  the  social  circle  ;  but  the  highest  of  their  social 
joys  would  be  at  an  end,  if  there  were  no  subsequent  and 
private  hour,  when  they  could  sit  down  together,  and  talk 
over  the  incidents  of  that  circle,  and  every  thing  that  was 
of  most  and  dearest  interest  to  themselves.  And  so  it  is 
with  the  Christian.  Public  communion  with  God  he  may 
richly  prize  and  enjoy.  But  sweetest  of  all,  is  his  commun- 
ion with  him  in  secret ;  when  in  the  sacred  retirement  of 
the  closet,  with  no  earthly  eye  upon  him,  he  can  pour  out 
his  soul  in  solitude  to  his  Maker.  From  the  very  instinct 
of  his  nature,  of  all  prayer,  that  which  is  secret  is  dearest 
to  him.  Prayer,  in  every  form,  is  his  joy,  his  strength ; 
but  secret  prayer  is  a  luxury  to  his  soul. 

I  must  pray  in  secret,  for  as  an  individual  I  have  secret 
and  peculiar  necessities.  I  have  secret  and  peculiar  sins  to 
confess,  which  it  would  be  improper  to  acknowledge  in 
public,  and  yet  to  God  I  can  unfold  and  deplore  them  all. 
My  temptations  are  peculiar,  and  to  him  I  would  go  for 
peculiar  strength,     I  have  secret  trials  and  sorrows  which 


r  MUST  PRAY  IN  SECRET.  3 

the  world  may  never  know,  and  yet  to  God  I  can  pour  them 
forth,  knowing  that  he  will  never  reveal  them ;  knowing 
that  he  will  sympathize  with  them  all ;  that  in  all  he  Avill 
cheer,  and  aid,  and  direct  me.  If  a  parent,  I  can  pray  for 
a  child  ;  if  a  friend,  for  a  friend  ;  if  a  minister,  for  each  of 
my  people  according  to  their  peculiar  case.  In  public,  join- 
ing as  I  there  do  with  others,  I  can  only  say,  "  our  Father  " — 
can  only  ask  for  general  blessings.  But,  blessed  be  God, 
in  secret  I  can  say,  "  0  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this 
cup  pass  from  me;"  let  this  temptation  be  removed,  this 
blessing  be  granted,  this  evil  habit  be  broken,  this  trial 
which  rends  my  heart  be  taken  away.  In  this,  let  the  way 
of  duty  be  made  plain  ;  in  this  grace  let  me  grow ;  let  this 
enemy  be  forgiven;  let  this  friend  be  blessed.  In  such 
particular  prayer,  I  find  my  nearest  approach  to  my  Sav- 
iour, the  clearest  views  of  self,  the  most  vivid  light  of  God's 
countenance,  the  deepest  sense  of  personal  obligation,  the 
mightiest  strength,  whether  to  resolve,  or  to  do,  or  to  suffer. 
I  must  pray  in  secret,  for  if  I  do  not,  I  shall  not  grow 
in  grace.  Of  all  the  means  of  spiritual  growth,  none  do  I 
find  more  efficient  or  blessed  than  this.  In  secret  com- 
munion with  God,  I  feel  as  if  he  were  personally  with  me ; 
and  this  gives  strength  and  vividness  to  every  obligation. 
Distinctly  confessing  my  sin — then,  if  ever,  I  avoid  it. 
Asking  for  distinct  blessings — then,  if  ever,  do  I  earnestly 
strive  for  their  attainment.  The  thought  that  I  have  been 
with  God — this,  I  find,  has  an  abiding  eflTect  on  the  life. 
After  this,  truth  is  more  impressed,  temptation  has  less 
power,  the  world  less  influence.  Coming  Avith  David  from 
the  closet,  with  David  I  am  able  to  say,  "  My  heart  is  fixed, 
O  God,  my  heart  is  fixed."  Mine  is  that  "calm  and  heav- 
enly frame  "  which  elevates  above  the  world,  and  fills  with 
the  Spirit  of  Jesus,  and  girds  for  every  holy  effort.  Coming 
from  the  closet — then,  if  ever,  am  I  firm  in  duty,  cheered 
under  sorrow,  strengthened  against  sin.  And  so  with  every 
child  of  God.     Never  was  there  one  who  loved  his  closet, 


4  I  MUST  PRAY  IN  SECRET. 

who  lived  much  in  it,  that  was  not  a  spiritual,  a  growing 
Christian. 

I  must  pray  in  secret,  for  if  I  sin  hy  neglecting  my 
closet,  I  shall  soon  he  left  to  other  sins.  Declension,  incon- 
sistency, formality,  backsliding,  all  begin  in  the  closet,  in 
the  neglect  of  secret  prayer,  "Away  from  God's  pres- 
ence," he  will  ''take  his  Holy  Spirit  from  us."  Going 
away  from  him,  neglecting  communion  with  him,  he  will 
leave  us.  And  left  of  him,  spiritual  darkness,  if  not  spirit- 
ual death,  will  be  upon  us.  Neglect  the  closet,  and  next 
the  family  altar  will  be  reglected,  and  then  the  circle  of 
social  prayer,  and  then  the  Bible,  and  then,  perhaps,  the 
sanctuary,  and  all  the  means  of  grace.  Neglect  the  closet, 
and  you  know  not  where  or  how  far  you  may  wander ;  you 
know  not  when,  if  ever,  you  will  return.  Neglect  the  closet, 
and  soon  you  will  abandon  it ;  abandon  it,  and  soon  you 
will  be  left  of  God  to  dark,  if  not  to  damning  sin — perhaps 
to  endless  ruin. 

I  must,  then,  /  must  pray  in  secret ;  statedly,  frequent- 
ly, earnestly.  God  enjoins  it.  My  highest  enjoyment,  and 
my  individual  and  peculiar  necessities  demand  it.  I  must 
do  it,  that  I  may  grow  in  grace — may  not  decline  in  spirit- 
uality— may  not  wander  from  God.  To  pray  in  secret ! 
It  is  a  solemn  duty,  a  glorious  and  blessed  privilege,  thus 
to  hold  converse  with  the  Most  High ;  as  a  child  with  a 
father,  as  a  friend  with  a  friend,  thus  to  commune  with  him, 
and  breathe  his  spirit,  and  receive  his  impress,  his  image, 
upon  my  heart.  0  may  I  ever  prize — may  I  ever  improve 
it.  By  divine  grace,  I  will.  God's  grace,  God's  Spirit 
assisting  me,  /  ivill  pray  in  secret.  Daily  and  faithfully  will 
I  do  it,  till  from  prayer  on  earth,  I  am  raised  to  praise  in 

HEAVEN. 


PUBLISHED    BY    THE    AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY. 


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